M^DONALDT 
OREGON 


EVA 
EMERY 
DYE 


IN  MEMOItlAM 
Mary  J.   L.    McDonald 


/.  ,  .'t 


MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

A  TALE  OF  Two  SHORES 


B  T  MRS.   DTE 

McLOUGHLIN   &> 
OLD     OREGON 

A  Chronicle 

THE   CONQUEST 

The  True  Story  of 
Lewis    and    Clark 

Each  $1.50 

A.C.  McCLURG  &  CO. 
CHICAGO 


Little  Ranald,  undaunted,  swinging  from  the  crest  of  one  long 
rolling  wave  deep  into  the  green  hollow  of  another." 


MCDONALD  OF 
OREGON     ' 

A  Tale  of  'Two  Shores 


BY    ' 

EVA  EMERY  DYE 

Author  of  "The  Conquest,"  "  McLoughlin  and  Old  Oregon,1 


etc. 


Illustrated  by  Walter  J.  Enrlgbt 


CHICAGO 

A.   C.    McCLURG   &   CO. 
1906 


COPYRIGHT 
A.   C.   MCCLURG  &  Co. 


Entefefl.!*:  ^tatibjfdVi':  Hall,*  London 
Published  Sept.  15,  1906 


IN  MEMORIAM 
v  ;iJll_v  >\ 

I; 


THE    UNIVERSITY    PRESS,    CAMBRIDGE,    U.S.A. 


TO    BEN 

THE  BROTHER  OF  RANALD 


984445 


This  gradual  and  continuous  progress  of  the  European  race 
towards  the  Rocky  Mountains  has  the  solemnity  of  a  providential 
event ;  it  is  like  a  deluge  of  men  rising  unabatedly  and  daily 
driven  onward  by  the  hand  of  God. 

DE  TOCQUEVILLE. 

//  was  McDonald  who  began  educational  activity  in  Japan  — 
the  story  of  which  will  some  day  be  fully  written. 

>   WILLIAM  ELLIOT  GRIFFIS. 


FOREWORD 


IN  his  last  years,  Ranald  McDonald  desired  me  to  write 
the  story  of  his  life.  The  result,  embodied  here,  is 
based  on  personal  statements  and  letters  of  McDonald 
and  other  old  Hudson  Bay  men  ;  on  the  record  of  Voyages 
of  the  Morrison  and  Himmaleh,  a  copy  of  which  exists  in 
the  Boston  Public  Library;  on  government  reports  and 
depositions  now  on  file  at  Washington,  D.  C. ;  on  papers 
and  documents  in  the  Canadian  archives  at  Ottawa,  and  in 
the  British  Columbia  Historical  Society  at  Victoria,  B.  C. ; 
on  the  Perry  documents  and  reports  of  American  and 
European  consuls  and  ambassadors;  on  various  Oregon, 
Hawaiian,  and  Canadian  newspapers  in  custody  of  the 
Oregon  Historical  Society,  and  on  references  to  him  by 
William  Elliot  Griffis,  Hildreth  the'  historian,  Dr.  Nitobe 
of  Japan,  and  others. 

The  period  of  McDonald's  activity  covers  the  closing 
regime  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  in  Oregon,  and  the 
entrance  of  American  dominion.  No  great  event  of  mod 
ern  history  is  so  unwritten  as  the  migration  of  pioneer 
Americans  to  the  Pacific  coast,  save  one,  the  age-long  drift 
of  Asia  eastward.  So  constantly  our  people  pressed  on 
west,  west,  from  the  earlier  Atlantic  settlements,  that  few 
knew  or  realized  the  scope  of  that  movement  until  the 
wondrous  feat  was  already  accomplished.  Now,  we  look 
back  in  dismay  and  admiration  at  the  multitudes  who 
actually  walked  two  thousand  miles  to  claim  a  home  on 
the  farther  ocean. 


vl  FOREWORD 

As  Tacitus  gives  a  glimpse  of  migrating  nations  pressing 
to  the  western  verge  of  Europe,  the  golden-haired  women 
knitting  as  their  rude  wains  rolled  over  the  virgin  plains 
of  German  Gaul,  so  here,  I  have  endeavored  to  picture 
the  American  movement,  with  actual  names  of  families 
whose  snowy-haired  survivors  have  told  me  their  stones, 
revivified  with  the  halo  of  youth.  Contemporaneously 
with  this  conquest  of  the  Northwest,  Ranald  McDonald 
crossed  to  Japan,  to  be  quickly  followed  by  Commo 
dore  Perry,  whose  interpreters  were  McDonald's  pupils. 
Several  of  their  pictures  embellish  the  Perry  reports, 
notably  Moryama  Yenoske,  Namoura  Tainoske,  and  Hori 
Tatsonoske. 

As  a  hero  of  the  vanguard,  Ranald  McDonald  ranks 
along  with  Sir  Alexander  Mackenzie,  Lewis  and  Clark,  and 
Commodore  Perry.  Beyond,  and  more  than  any  of  these, 
he  belonged  to  that  Asiatic  America  so  swiftly  succumbing 
to  the  Anglo-Saxon. 

EVA    EMERY    DYE. 

OREGON  CITY,  Oregon, 
Jan.  10,  1906. 


CONTENTS 


BOOK   I  — THE   FUR  TRADERS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.   THE  BIRTH  OF  RANALD 15 

II.    THE  FORT  BUILDERS 19 

III.  THE  KING  TRAVELS 27 

IV.  RANALD  SEES  A  BATTLE 33 

V.    THE  STRATEGIES  OF  TRADE 41 

VI.    A  YANKEE  SCHOOLMASTER 49 

VII.    KAMIAKIN  VISITS  VANCOUVER 57 

VIII.    THE  FIRST  FORT  ON  PUGET  SOUND 60 

IX.    THE  WOES  OF  JOHN  WORK 64 

X.    VISITORS  FROM  JAPAN 67 

XL    AN  AMERICAN  FORT      .     .     .  ' 76 

XII.    THE  FIRST  PACIFIC  STEAMBOAT 83 

XIII.  "WHITE  WOMEN!  WHITE  AS  SNOW!" 90 

XIV.  RANALD  GOES  TO  RED  RIVER 93 

XV.  A  THOUSAND  AMERICANS    ,  101 


BOOK   II  — BEYOND   THE   BORDER 

I.    THE  MEN  OF  '44 in 

II.    PIONEER  MOTHERS 124 

III.  THE  RACE  FROM  FORT  BRIDGER       ......  135 

IV.  A  SON  OF  HAM  " .     .     ...     .     .-  147 

V.    A  ROAD  OVER  MOUNT  HOOD 154 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

VI.  DANIEL  BOONE'S  OLD  COMPASS 160 

VII.  AN  EDITOR  IN  LOVE .     .     .  168 

VIII.  CHLOE  BOONE 172 

IX.  THE  BOUNDARY  SETTLED 179 

X.  DOUGLAS  ABANDONS  THE  COLUMBIA  .  188 


BOOK   III  — JAPAN 

I.  THE  FLIGHT  OF  RANALD 197 

II.  ABOARD  A  WHALER 200 

III.  THE  GATE  OPENS 204 

IV.  AMONG  THE  AINU 209 

V.  AT  MATSUMAI  CASTLE 220 

VI.  TEACHING  AT  NAGASAKI 226 

VII.  A  MAN-OF-WAR 237 

VIII.  A  PARTING  WITH  REGRET 251 

IX.  THE  STIR  AT  WASHINGTON 257 

X.  STEAMING  INTO  YEDO 262 

XL  THE  BLACK  SHIPS 264 

XII.  A  NAVAL  DEMONSTRATION      .     .     .     ....     •     •  268 

XIII.  THE  PRESIDENT'S  LETTER 273 

XIV.  YEDO  CASTLE 280 

XV.  THE  TREATY .     .     ...     .  283 

XVI.  THE  BIRTH  OF  MODERN  JAPAN 292 

XVII.  MORYAMA  YENOSKE. 298 

BOOK   IV  — KAMIAKIN 

I.  STILL  ASIAWARD 305 

II.  THE  CHIEF  THAT  FOUNDED  A  CITY 310 

III.  YESLER 3T3 


CONTENTS  ix 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

IV.  AN  OREGON  RIVAL 316 

V.  PIOPIOMOXMOX 320 

VI.  "WHERE  LEAPS  AND  THUNDERS  THE  SPOKANE"    .  326 

VII.  FROM  THE  LAKES  TO  THE  SEA 329 

VIII.  THE  BOONE-CURRY  HOMESTEAD 334 

IX.  WHOSE  COUNTRY? 340 

X.  THE  GREAT  COUNCIL 344 

XL  GOLD!    GOLD  AT  FORT  COLVILLE  ! 351 

XII.  MARGARET  OF  WALLA  WALLA 352 

XIII.  FLEEING  TO  THE  FORTS 356 

XIV.  A  COURIER  OF  THE  WEST 358 

XV.  CATHERINE  MAYNARD 363 

XVI.  THE  SIEGE  OF  SEATTLE   .     .     . 368 

XVII.  UNDER  FIRE  ON  THE  COLUMBIA 373 

XVIII.  THE  SPOKANE  BATTLES 376 


CONCLUSION 

I.    THE  RETURN  OF  RANALD  MCDONALD 385 

II.    THE  PASSING  OF  OLD  SIR  RANALD 391 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

"Little  Ranald,  undaunted,  swinging  from  the  crest  of 
one  long  rolling  wave  deep  into  the  green  hollow 
of  another  " Frontispiece 

"  The  little    brown    men    had    thrown    themselves    on   the 

floor" 76 

"  At    that  moment  a  young  girl  passed  from  the   kitchen 

door  to  the  spring  for  a  bucket  of  water"      .     .     .     118 

"'And  may  I  ride  with  you?'" l66 

"Tankaro    cautiously   rose    and  peered   over  the  friendly 

grass" 2I° 

"  She   lifted    her    fair    hand    and    her  'eye    blazed    as  she 

pointed  to  the  door" 354 


BOOK     I 
THE   FUR  TRADERS 


MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

A   TALE    OF   TWO    SHORES 


BOOK     I 
THE   FUR  TRADERS 

i          hviv, 

THE  BIRTH   OF  RANALD  .       :;W;*: 

A  WILD  night  ushered  Ranald  McDonald  into  the 
world,  —  wild  without  Fort  George  and  wild 
within.  The  February  wind  of  1824  howled  up 
the  Columbia  like  all  the  dead  Chinooks  from  the  ocean 
to  the  Dalles ;  swaying  stretches  of  tree-tops  moaned  and 
murmured;  and  the  foaming  river  itself,  facing  the 
tempest,  madly  tossed  gigantic  trees  like  twigs  upon  its 
bosom.  Jutting  into  the  sea,  Cape  Disappointment  reared 
its  weather-beaten  brow,  and  across  to  the  south  the 
low  sand-spit  of  Point  Adams  answered  the  deep,  solemn 
warning  of  the  breakers.  Beyond,  discoloring  the  ocean 
for  sixty  miles,  the  volume  of  the  mighty  river  poured 
out  drift,  to  land  at  last  on  some  far  southwest  island  of 
the  Pacific.  Like  laughter  on  the  gale,  tempestuous  voices 
whispered,  "  A  child,  a  child  is  born  to  thee !  " 

Within,  the  great  hall  was  lit  with  torches;  a  piper 
marching  up  and  down  shook  the  timbers  with  his  wild 
music,  as  voyageur  and  Highlander,  fringes  floating  in 
air,  pulsed  to  the  thrilling  skirl  of  Lord  McDonald's 
Reel. 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult,  a  side  door 
opened,  and  Archibald  McDonald,  white  as  a  phantom, 


1 6  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

stepped  into  the  room.  The  dancers  paused,  the  music 
ceased,  every  eye  turned  in  question.  The  wail  of  an 
infant  pierced  the  silence. 

"  Will  you  come  here,  Mr.  Work?    The  girl  is  dead." 

"  Sacred  name  of  God !  "  ejaculated  Charlefoux,  a  big 
giant  of  a  French  Canadian.  One  by  one  the  torches  were 
extinguished,  and  the  men  went  out  with  tears  running 
down  their  faces.  If  their  lives  were  rough,  their  hearts 
were  warm,  and  McDonald  felt  their  sympathy  as  each 
man  passed,  cap  in  hand,  begging  to  know  what  he  might 
do. 

"  Naething,  naething,  ma  lads,  until  daylight,  then 
some  one  must  call  Cumcumly." 

John  Work,  a  typical  Scotch-Irish  gentleman,  with  just 
tke  slightest  bit  Qf  a  burr  to  his  brogue,  was  a  man  that 
men  mrght  ••tti^JV  to  in  trouble,  —  a  stanch  old  Scotch 
Preshytedan  .from 'Londonderry,  steady  as  the  hills,  sym 
pathetic  'and: faith fnl  to  duty,  indomitable,  too,  else  he 
would  never  have  been  sent  on  the  journeys  that  made 
his  name  a  synonyme  for  unflinching  valor.  The  two, 
with  a  crew  of  voyageurs,  had  been  sent  over  the  moun 
tains  from  Canada  the  year  before,  to  take  over  the 
Northwest  posts  for  the  Hudson  Bay  Company. 

Down  here  on  the  inhospitable  Oregon  coast,  rising 
like  a  mountain  out  of  the  green  water  and  crowned  with 
evergreen  forests,  they  had  come  to  Fort  George,  the 
Astoria  of  the  Americans,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia ; 
and  hither  to  them,  from  England,  ships  had  been  sent 
to  assist  in  establishing  a  Pacific  Coast  trade  for  Britain. 
In  charge  of  the  fort  they  found  the  Northwester,  James 
Birnie,  an  educated  Aberdeen  Scotchman,  glad  enough  to 
hear  of  the  coalition  of  the  rival  fur  companies  into  one 
great  corporation  covering  British  North  America. 

In  the  midst  of  these  duties  Archibald  McDonald  had 
met  and  married  Raven,  the  youngest  daughter  of  King 
Cumcumly  of  the  Chinooks,  who,  on  her  wedding  day, 
was  christened  the  Princess  Sunday.  Years  afterward 
Captain  Thomas  Butler,  of  Salem,  Massachusetts,  who 
happened  to  be  on  the  Columbia  at  the  time,  described 
that  wedding  to  Ranald  McDonald. 


THE    BIRTH    OF    RANALD  17 

King  Cumcumly's  long,  one-story,  cedar  house,  with  a 
totem  pole  in  front,  lay  on  the  north  side  of  the  mouth  of 
the  Columbia,  where  the  great  estuary  embraces  one 
of  the  three  great  harbors  of  the  North  Pacific  Coast. 
A  village  of  five  hundred  people  composed  Cumcumly's 
retinue  of  copper-colored  attendants,  heralds,  and  canoe- 
men,  but  more  than  five  thousand  acknowledged  Chinook 
sway  to  the  Dalles,  as  far,  in  fact,  as  tide-water  rolled 
inland. 

Around  the  great  lodge  of  King  Cumcumly  camped 
these  followers,  in  tents  of  mats  or  canoe  sails,  with 
blankets  or  squirrel-skin  robes  to  cover  their  nakedness; 
but  the  King  himself  wore  a  tall  hat,  and  a  long  coat, 
and  slept  on  a  couch  of  priceless  sea-otter.  Crows,  tame 
as  poultry,  nibbled  around  Cumcumly's  dooryard,  halibut 
and  salmon  abounded,  and  there  was  plenty  of  blubber, 
plenty  of  oil,  —  a  rich  Indian  was  King  Cumcumly. 

Now  Cumcumly  had'  not  the  least  idea  in  the  world 
where  he  came  from.  If  his  ancestors  had  drifted  over 
seas  in  past  ages  he  knew  it  not.  But  his  Mongolian 
face,  with  eyes  turned  obliquely  upwafd  at  the  outer 
corners,  told  of  an  Asiatic  past. 

"  Long  before  our  fathers'  time,"  ran  a  legend  of  the 
coast,  "  there  came  ashore  near  Cape  Flattery  a  strange 
kind  of  craft,  very  large,  and  in  it  strange  people,  who 
wore  strange  clothes  and  spoke  a  strange  tongue.  The 
crew  became  slaves.  These  men  built  the  first  canoes 
of  the  kind  now  used,  taught  us  how  to  match  timber 
by  the  tongue-and-groove  method  for  our  houses,  and  to 
cultivate  our  lands.  The  canoe  builders  were  sold  to 
other  tribes  up  and  down  the  coast."  Hence  was  evolved 
the  Chinook  canoe.  Even  Cumcumly's  lodge  was  sug 
gestive  of  deteriorated  Japan,  with  its  bunks  around  the 
sides  for  beds  and  its  chimneyless  fire  in  the  centre. 

But  the  wedding!  From  the  water's  marge  to  the 
Great  Lodge,  three  hundred  yards,  a  pathway  was  car 
peted  with  richest  furs,  —  beaver,  sea  and  land  otter ; 
not  even  seal  was  considered  valuable  enough  for  that 
carpet  along  this  golden  road  for  the  wedding  march. 
As  a  guard  of  honor  stood  three  hundred  slaves  of  King 


1 8  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Cumcumly.  Archibald  McDonald,  tall,  eagle-eyed,  with 
thews  and  sinews  of  his  mountain  race,  and  magnetic 
look,  and  touch,  and  tongue,  took  the  hand  of  Raven  that 
Sunday  morning,  and  she  became  the  Princess  Sunday, 
the  wife  of  the  fur  trader.  The  soughing  of  the  summer 
breeze  through  the  fir-tops,  and  the  organ  bourdon  of 
the  ever-sounding  sea  upon  the  shore,  was  the  music 
of  that  wedding  march  when  the  Caucasian  married  the 
Turanian. 

As  fast  as  the  whites  retrod  the  fur  path  to  the  boats, 
the  whole  was  rolled  up  behind  them  by  the  three  hun 
dred  slaves  and  piled  on  the  gunwales,  —  a  king's  gift 
to  the  bride  and  groom,  worth  thousands  of  dollars. 
"  The  Company  "  took  the  furs,  for  no  individual  trader 
might  receive  such  a  gift  on  his  own  account,  not  even 
his  bride's  dowry. 

Of  course  there  was  feasting,  and  a  bride  at  the  fort 
to  be  initiated  by  Madame  Birnie  into  all  the  mysteries 
of  the  needle.  Summer  passed  on  the  salmon-jammed 
River  Columbia,  with  hundreds  of  Indians,  and  acres 
of  frames,  and  scaffolds  of  drying  fish  gleaming  rich  and 
yellow  in  the  summer  sun;  and  Autumn,  with  traders 
flitting  back  down  the  rivers  with  boat-loads  of  booty. 

But  now  the  Princess  was  dead.  At  daylight  Charle- 
foux  and  Plomondon  went  over  the  bay  to  the  Great 
Lodge.  The  King  rose  from  his  couch  of  skins  and  called 
his  dog. 

"  Be  quiet,  my  child ;  do  not  bark  at  the  white  men. 
They  will  not  harm  you.  Embark,  my  son."  And  with 
his  master  the  dog  embarked. 

Up  rose,  too,  old  Carcumcum,  the  sister  of  Cumcumly, 
and  her  son  Ellewa,  and  his  wife,  and  two  or  three  slaves. 
She  put  on  her  siwash  coat,  her  Indian  gown,  a  short 
scant  skirt  woven  of  the  beaten  bark  of  the  cedar,  soft 
and  warm  as  wool,  and  went  over  to  the  funeral.  Others 
came,  slaves  and  princes,  their  high-prowed  gondolas 
flitting  over  the  blue,  gliding  under  the  umbrageous 
shore-line,  skidding  across  some  wind-swept  bay  to  old 
Fort  George. 

Palisaded  and  bastioned,  large  and  long  loomed  Fort 


THE    FORT    BUILDERS  19 

George  under  the  dense  forest  trees,  with  shops,  store 
houses,  and  cabins  for  the  fur  traders.  It  was  Astor's 
old  fort,  seized  by  the  British  in  1813,  and  now  recently 
retroceded  by  the  treaty  of  Ghent.  The  gates  were  ajar. 

"  Where  is  the  land  of  the  dead?  (memeloose  illihee)" 
wailed  Cumcumly.  Then,  answering  himself,  "  It  is  to 
the  west,  toward  the  sunset.  Put  her  in  the  canoe  with 
her  head  to  the  west !  "  For  this  he  had  brought  his 
state  canoe,  the  highest-prowed  gondola  on  the  Columbia. 

"  No,"  said  McDonald,  "  I  must  bury  her  as  white 
men  do  " ;  and  with  prayer  and  a  Christian  hymn,  the 
Princess  Sunday  was  laid  to  rest  in  the  cemetery  by  the 
fort.  But  Cumcumly  still  gazed  toward  the  sea.  Was 
it  an  inherited  tradition  that  every  Indian  should  go  back 
to  the  Celestials  in  the  west  ?  The  bayous  beyond  Astoria 
wrere  filled  with  the  dead,  each  in  that  almost  priceless 
carved  coffin,  the  cedar  canoe,  and  every  head  was  turned 
toward  Asia. 

"  Let  me  have  the  little  Cumcumly,"  pleaded  Car- 
cumcum.  Without  a  word  McDonald  handed  her  the 
child. 


II 

THE   FORT   BUILDERS 

GREAT   banquets    had    been    held    at    Astoria    in 
McDonald's  day,  —  Gaelic  banquets.     "  For  Ore 
gon  is  Ossian's  land,"  McDonald  was  wont  to 
say,    gazing    at    the    wintry    Pacific,    where    mist-laden 
southwesters  flung  up  the  foam  of  the  sea. 

McDonalds  a  plenty  were  in  the  fur  trade,  —  John 
McDonald  of  Garth,  who  took  over  Astoria  in  King 
George's  name  when  Astor  was  driven  out;  John 
McDonald  the  Grand,  of  wild  temper,  who  swore  in 
French,  English,  Gaelic,  and  Indian,  when  the  tribes 
annoyed  him  up  the  Columbia;  and  John  McDonald 
the  priest,  who  observed  church  fasts  on  his  voyages 


20  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

through  the  fur  country,  —  but  this  was  Archibald 
McDonald  of  Glencoe,  to  whom  every  Oregon  vale  was 
reminiscent  of  the  Highlands,  and  every  peak  but  a 
grander  Ben  Nevis.  "  Tak'  aff  your  bonnet,  mon,  to 
the  michty  mountain,"  he  often  cried,  as  snowy  St. 
Helens  lifted  her  graceful  cone  above  the  fir-tips,  or 
sinewy  Hood  loomed  before  the  up-river  boats.  Even 
the  mountain  torrents  had  the  solemn  rhythmic  cadence 
of  the  roaring  stream  of  Cona. 

Lithe,  wild-spirited,  steady  at  toilsome  labor,  hardy  as 
their  Norse-Gaelic  fathers,  for  a  hundred  years  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company  had  recruited  its  ranks  from  the 
Orkneymen  and  Highlanders  of  Scotland.  All  over 
the  North,  beside  some  sylvan  lake  where  a  mountain 
cast  its  evening  shadow,  or  at  some  rocky  portage  where 
a  mad  fall  dashed  its  waters,  the  fur-trading  Scot  had 
built  his  lone  stockade,  chosen  for  his  bride  the  dusky 
daughter  of  a  chief,  and  reared  his  half-white  children. 

To  relieve  the  over-populated  Highlands,  the  philan 
thropic  Lord  Selkirk  had  sent  his  private  secretary, 
Archibald  McDonald,  with  a  colony  to  settle  on  Red 
River  in  British  America.  It  was  June,  1813,  when 
McDonald  and  his  party  sailed  for  Hudson  Bay;  it 
was  June  again  before  they  reached  the  end  of  their 
journey.  Frozen  in  on  the  northern  sea,  the  Governor 
of  Red  River  himself  went  out  to  bring  McDonald  and 
his  people  in. 

"  What !  a  Hudson  Bay  settlement  right  in  our  pem- 
mican  ground !  "  snorted  the  Northwesters ;  for  here, 
indeed,  was  the  buffalo  range  of  that  rival  company's 
provision  depot.  "  It  lies  across  our  path,  and  cuts  our 
territory  in  two;  't  is  a  plot  to  cut  us  off  from  Canada." 

Stormy  times  ensued.  The  settlers  had  come  in  good 
faith,  but  the  Northwesters  would  not  have  them,  and 
tried  to  drive  them  out.  The  contestants,  including  the 
Governor  himself,  \vere  summoned  to  Canada  to  answer 
charges  against  them,  and  in  their  absence  Archibald 
McDonald  became  acting  Governor  of  Red  River.  Then 
came  a  battle,  June,  1815;  more  settlers  and  another 
battle,  June,  1816.  Directly  overseas  hastened  Lord 


THE    FORT    BUILDERS  21 

Selkirk  himself  with  a  portion  of  De  Meuron's  Swiss 
regiment  from  Waterloo,  to  meet  and  save  the  flying 
people.  A  noble  man  was  Lord  Selkirk,  the  intimate 
friend  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  the  founder  of  Manitoba. 
But  he  could  not  save  his  colonists.  Distressed  at  their 
sufferings,  worried  by  lawsuits,  heart-broken,  he  retired 
to  Southern  France,  and  died  in  1820. 

Archibald  McDonald  wrote  a  book  about  the  Red 
River  troubles  that  was  published  in  London,  —  a  rare 
old  volume  that  still  may  be  found  in  some  libraries. 
Then  Parliament  took  up  the  matter,  and  compelled  a 
coalition  of  the  fighting  companies  or  the  loss  of  their 
charters.  Hence  it  happened  that  Archibald  McDonald 
was  sent  over  the  mountains  to  take  formal  possession, 
from  the  Northwest  Company,  of  its  establishments  on 
the  Pacific  Coast.  McDonald  had  fought  McDonalds; 
and  if  he  had  seen  war,  so,  too,  there  was  little  of  pomp 
and  pageant  in  the  fur  country  that  he  had  not  seen  and 
been  a  part  of.  Around  such  names  ballad  and  story 
grow. 

But  after  the  death  of  Princess  Sunday  McDonald  left 
Astoria.  The  women  took  Ranald  to  their  barnlike  lodges 
and  nursed  him,  one  and  another.  "  But  mind,"  said  the 
trader  that  day  he  left  the  shore,  "  this  is  a  white  child, 
and  a  chief's  son.  Don't  you  ever  pad  him  into  a 
Chinook."  For  he  hated  the  sugar-loaf  heads  of  the 
coast  tribes. 

So,  while  other  babies  dangled  in  their  bread-trough 
cradles,  with  cushions  of  feathers  across  the  brow  to 
make  them  aristocratic  flatheads,  little  Ranald  grew 
round  and  handsome,  and  his  bright  black  eyes  illu 
mined  a  face  olive  and  oval  as  the  son  of  a  mikado. 
Soon  he  learned  to  answer  with  a  gurgle  old  King 
Cumcumly's  monotonous  "  Toll,  toll,"  —  Chinook  for 
"  boy  of  grandpa,"  —  as  he  swung  in  his  cradle  at  the 
end  of  a  flexible  sapling.  Another  roundhead  baby  was 
swinging  near,  —  Billy  McKay,  the  son  of  Tom  McKay, 
whose  father  had  been  one  of  Astor's  men;  and  while 
the  old  women  busily  wove  mats  and  baskets  of  grass 
and  dried  kelp,  exactly  as  their  Alaskan  sisters  do  to 


22  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

this  day,  with  a  joggle  they  kept  the  babies  crowing  and 
dancing  and  sleeping  as  they  faced  the  blue  Pacific. 
Sometimes  the  squaw  mothers  took  them  on  their  backs, 
Japanese  fashion,  while  they  worked  at  the  wool  of  the 
mountain  sheep  and  goats,  weaving  by  hand  and  dyeing 
with  native  dyes  into  figures  like  shimmering  sea-water. 
Sometimes  little  dogs  came  up  and  snapped  at  them,  - 
little  woolly  brown  dogs,  that  the  women  used  to  shear 
for  the  wool  to  make  into  blankets. 

The  Chinooks  were  a  busy  people,  skilled  in  boat 
building,  house-building,  and  fish-net  weaving.  From 
moon  to  moon  men  toiled  at  canoes,  cutting  the  cedar- 
tree,  peeling,  shaping,  measuring,  hewing,  smoothing, 
polishing,  until  one  day  they  filled  the  inner  hollow  with 
water.  Hissing  stones  sent  up  a  white  steam  and  hot  bark 
fires  outside  softened  the  fibre.  Then  came  the  stretch 
ing,  wide,  wider,  until  thwarts  were  slipped  in;  stern 
and  figurehead  were  fitted,  —  carved  totems  of  the  bear, 
the  raven,  or  the  eagle. 

Blackened  with  burnt  rushes,  reddened  with  ochre, 
studded  with  sea-shells,  away  they  were  launched,  twenty 
men  to  a  boat,  to  fish,  spear  seals,  and  even  to  harpoon 
the  great  whale  out  in  the  deep.  By-and-bye  Ranald 
noticed  the  canoes,  and  clapped  his  little  hands  when 
Cumcumly's  slaves  sent  them  with  a  splash  into  the 
water.  If  ever  a  baby  loved  water  it  was  Ranald,  down 
there  by  the  sea  looking  over  toward  Asia. 

Children  played  around;  little  girls  with  clam-shells 
dressed  up  for  dolls ;  little  boys  made  canoes  out  of  flags 
and  rushes,  with  leaves  for  sails,  and  sent  them  down  the 
bay;  older  boys  carved  duck  canoes,  large  enough  to 
hold  them,  and  went  paddling  around  the  capes. 

Then  Autumn  came,  when  a  hundred  driftwood  fires 
gave  a  hospitable  look  to  the  rancheries  of  the  Indians, 
—  fires  of  ocean  drift,  impregnated  with  copper  and  sea 
salts  that  gave  out  brilliant-colored  flames.  Solemn  as 
a  little  owl  in  the  door  of  old  Cumcumly's  lodge  Baby 
Ranald  watched  the  iridescent  sparkles,  when,  one  even 
ing,  the  whole  garrison  of  dogs  set  up  a  yelping,  and 
Ranald  screamed. 


THE    FORT    BUILDERS  23 

"  Be  quait,  noo,  Ranald ;   your  faither  is  here." 

Archibald  McDonald  always  fell  back  into  homely 
dialect  when  he  spoke  to  the  child.  Old  Carcumcum  had 
pointed  him  out,  silent  on  his  little  pole,  watching  the 
fire.  In  a  trice  the  rope  was  cut,  and,  despite  Cum- 
cumly's  objections,  the  tall  dark  Highlander  bore  him 
away,  and  across  the  water  to  the  fort.  Back  down 
from  the  Spokane  country  McDonald  had  come,  and 
beyond,  where  he  had  mapped  out  the  Indian  country 
from  the  Columbia  to  the  Arctic,  "  with  much  detail  and 
correctness,"  said  the  Hudson  Bay  magnates.  And  with 
him  had  come  Chief  Factor  John  McLoughlin  to  take 
charge  of  the  Oregon  country,  in  this  Autumn  of  1824. 

"  How  far  back  can  I  remember  McLoughlin  ?  "  asked 
Ranald  in  later  years.  "  As  far  back  as  I  can  remember 
anything.  He  and  my  father  were  the  only  men  I  was 
ever  in  fear  of." 

But  the  cooped-up  quarters  of  Fort  George  were  too 
confined  for  one  who  had  ruled  Fort  William  on  the 
great  Canadian  sea.  "  This  Astoria  belongs  to  the 
Americans,"  said  Dr.  McLoughlin,  "  and  they  are  likely 
to  take  possession  any  day.  We  must  build  a  fort  of  our 
own  where  we  may  fly  the  British  flag." 

Before  Christmas  Charlefoux,  Plornondon,  and  Donald 
Manson  were  canoeing  up  river  to  build  Fort  Vancouver 
on  the  north  bank  of  the  Columbia,  ninety  miles  from 
the  sea,  and  before  a  second  Christmas  another  brigade 
overland  had  brought  a  bushel  eaqh  of  wheat,  peas,  oats, 
barley,  and  corn,  and  one  quart  of  timothy  seed  from 
York  factory  on  Hudson  Bay. 

Somewhere,  too,  in  that  north  country,  Archibald 
McDonald  had  found  Jane  Klyne,  the  daughter  of  the 
Swiss  master  of  Jasper  House,  a  trade  outpost  in  the 
wilds  of  Athabasca  under  the  shadow  of  the  Rockies. 
Michael  Klyne,  a  jolly  old  fellow  with  a  large  family, 
one  of  De  Meuron's  Swiss  regiment  who  had  entered 
the  fur  service,  was  only  too  proud  to  call  the  late  Gov 
ernor  of  Red  River  his  son-in-law.  Once  arrived  on 
the  Columbia,  Jane  took  the  little  Ranald  to  her  heart, 
and  he  never  knew  any  other  mother. 


24  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Ships  from  London  soon  filled  the  new-built  Van 
couver  with  trading  goods;  pigs  were  brought  from 
Honolulu,  calves  from  the  Spanish  land  of  California, 
and  chickens  from  Shanghai. 

"  Spokane  House  belongs  to  the  Americans,  —  it, 
too,  must  be  abandoned.  Where  is  that  strategic 
spot  where  all  the  trails  meet?  We  saw  it,  coming 
down."  Dr.  McLoughlin  adjusted  his  spectacles  to 
examine  McDonald's  map  of  the  Columbia. 

"  There!  "  pointed  the  long  finger  of  the  Highlander. 
"  Kettle  Falls  is  in  a  luxuriant  vale  where  Indians  come 
by  thousands  in  the  fishing  time.  In  fact,  John  Work 
has  already  camped  there  and  planted  a  garden.  He 
finds  it  a  capital  point  for  trade." 

Gardens  were  not  new.  Thirteen  years  before,  Astor's 
people  had  planted  at  Spokane,  and  intelligent  squaws, 
keen-eyed  and  alert,  had  begged  or  bought  or  borrowed 
seed,  until  potatoes  and  beans  and  pumpkins  were  thriv 
ing  on  many  an  inland  hillside.  Other  things  Astor's 
people  had  left,  — Jhere  and  there  log  cabins,  the  begin 
nings  of  white  settlements,  and  over  them  climbed  the 

o 

wild  vines  of  the  valleys.  And  so  it  happened  that  when 
Chief  Trader  Work,  sad  in  heart  and  longing  for  home, 
came  one  day  unexpectedly  upon  the  strange  and  start 
ling  beauty  of  a  girl  —  a  white  girl  —  in  the  Indian 
country,  the  hot  blood  leaped  to  his  sandy  hair.  He 
forgot  she  had  any  kinship  with  the  race  around  him; 
he  trembled  as  she  fixed  her  calm  blue  eye  upon  his 
flushing  countenance. 

A  mere  slip  of  a  girl  was  Josette,  not  half  the  age  of 
her  elderly  lover;  but  with  singular  instinct  she,  too, 
felt  that  she  belonged  to  him  and  his  people,  the  nations 
of  the  whites.  And  she  spoke  the  language  of  France. 
Always  a  joke  among  the  traders  had  it  been,  "  John 
Work  murders  the  French  tongue";  but  with  some 
French  and  much  Indian  he  talked  with  Josette,  and  was 
led  to  the  lodge  of  her  uncle,  deep  in  the  Cceur  d'Alene 
hills.  There  he  found  one  of  John  Jacob  Astor's  old 
boat-builders  from  Spokane  House,  Charles  Legacie,  a 
Frenchman,  with  all  the  gifts  of  his  race,  genial,  polite, 


THE    FORT    BUILDERS  25 

adaptable,  ready  to  welcome  a  stranger.  With  him  and 
the  Ogdens  and  John  McDonald  the  Grand,  Josette 
Legacie  and  her  brother  Pierre  had  spent  a  wonderful 
childhood. 

Dressed  like  a  princess,  the  idol  of  a  thousand  red 
men,  Josette  stood  like  a  picture  against  the  firelight  of 
her  uncle's  lodge.  John  Work,  a  stanch  Scotch-Irish 
Presbyterian,  and  a  confirmed  bachelor,  who  had  sworn 
over  and  over  again  never  to  marry  until  good  fortune 
sent  him  home  with  gold  enough  to  build  a  castle,  in  an 
instant,  without  warning,  was  vanquished  by  the  sight  of 
a  face  that  reminded  him  of  the  lasses  of  Londonderry. 
And  so  it  happened  that  John  Work  had  camped  with 
his  bride  at  Kettle  Falls  and  planted  a  garden. 

McLoughlin  received  a  faint  hint  of  all  this  as  he 
studied  McDonald's  map  that  morning  at  Vancouver; 
but  the  garden,  the  garden,  —  "  Yes,  it  will  be  a  good 
spot  for  a  post,  and  now  the  express  is  going  to  Canada." 
In  short,  preliminaries  were  settled  in  that  March  of 
1826,  and  McDonald,  McLeod,  and  other  Macs  set  out 
with  three  little  calves  and  three  little'  pigs  in  paddle- 
boats  to  found  Fort  Colville,  a  thousand  miles  up  the 
Columbia.  It  was  a  trying  trip.  Chill  winds  blew,  and 
hungry  Indians  at  the  Cascades,  the  Dalles,  and  the  Falls 
of  the  Columbia  wanted  to  kill  the  strange  and  novel 
game.  The  way  through  had  to  be  fought  with  guns, 
and  grass  for  the  calves  had  to  be  cut  through  deep 
snow.  At  last,  after  peril  by  storm  and  rock  and  rapid, 
and  savage  red  men,  the  three  little  calves  and  three 
little  pigs  were  landed  on  the  bank  of  the  great  river, 
where  an  old  trail  intersected  the  Indian  highway  be 
tween  the  Okanogan  country  and  the  Flatheads.  High 
around  arose  the  mountains ;  underfoot,  ankle  deep,  grew 
the  crisp  and  curly  buffalo  grass  over  an  extended  flat 
of  great  fertility;  but  John  Work  and  his  child-bride 
had  gone  to  spend  the  winter  with  the  Flatheads. 

"  Haste!  haste!  "  The  faithful  Canadians  built  up  the 
high  wooden  walls  and  bastions,  to  be  under  cover  before 
the  Indians  came  down  for  Spring  salmon  at  Kettle  Falls. 
The  fort  was  a  good  one  for  the  times,  —  of  squared 


26  *          MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

tree-trunks,  held  together  with  wooden  pins,  and  a  gal 
lery  inside  all  around  for  defence,  and,  by-and-bye, 
cannon  to  arm  the  bastions.  With  the  marks  of  the 
axe  still  on  the  rafters,  they  moved  in,  spread  out  their 
merchandise,  and  were  ready  for  trade. 

As  if  drawn  by  a  magnet  the  Kootenais  came  trailing 
in,  wrecks  before  the  fishing  time.  Inquisitive  little  In 
dian  children  hid  around  in  the  bushes,  whence  their 
shining  black  eyes  watched  the  intruders,  skurrying  like 
partridges  when  Charlefoux  stalked  toward  their  retreat. 
In  a  short  time  all  the  Indians  in  the  country  had  heard 
of  Fort  Colville,  named  for  the  London  Governor  of  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company. 

"  We  are  glad  you  have  come,"  said  the  Pend 
d'Oreilles. 

"  We  will  trade  with  you,"  said  the  Flatheads,  "  unless 
the  Americans  come !  " 

"  We  are  willing  to  barter  our  furs  and  peltries  for 
your  powder  and  ball,"  said  the  Cceur  d'Alenes,  "  but 
within  the  limits  of  our  land  you  cannot  build  a  fort. 
We  will  meet  you  at  the  border  on  the  banks  of  yonder 
river." 

Down  from  the  north  and  from  the  mountains,  on 
sleds  and  snowshoes,  and  over  swollen  streams,  for 
miles  the  tribes  travelled  to  Fort  Colville.  And  up  from 
the  Yakima  came  Kamiakin.  The  fort  was  finished. 
Everything  now  must  be  brought  over  from  Spokane 
House,  and  it  dismantled.  Riding  from  Spokane  came 
Edward  Ermatinger,  and  out  of  the  Flathead  country 
came  back  Chief  Trader  Work  with  his  bride,  his  Indian 
lodge,  and  his  winter  pack  of  skins. 

"An'  this  is  the  lad,  noo?"  inquired  the  kind-hearted 
trader,  spreading  his  capacious  palm  on  the  small  boy's 
head.  "  Come  here,  Cumcumly." 

"  Cumcumly  McDonald,"  musingly  repeated  Edward 
Ermatinger,  gazing  at  the  small  boy  sporting  the  Glencoe 
emblem,  the  tail-feather  of  a  blue  jay  in  his  bonnet. 
"  That  is  a  pretty  name,  and  a  new  one  for  a  McDonald." 

"  Me  name  is  Ranald,"  stoutly  insisted  the  child, 
kicking  at  Ermatinger's  legs. 


THE    KING   TRAVELS  27 

"  Nay,  it  was  Cumcumly  before  it  was  Ranald,  as  I 
have  reason  to  remember,"  answered  the  Chief  Trader, 
gently.  McDonald  said  nothing.  In  fact,  Ranald  had 
forgotten,  if  he  ever  knew,  his  Indian  origin,  and  de 
ported  himself  as  a  royal  white  child  among  the  little 
savages  around  the  fort. 

Jane  had  her  hands  full,  so  virile  with  life  was  Ranald, 
so  venturesome  and  daring.  Even  into  old  age  Ranald 
remembered  her  ministration,  for  every  night  he  knelt 
at  her  knee;  and  when  Winter  shut  in  the  fort,  Archi 
bald  McDonald  taught  Jane  and  the  child  to  read  the 
Bible.  The  Canadians  called  her  "  The  Madame,"  but 
McDonald  himself  always  said  "  Jeannie." 

Late,  on  the  high  water  of  Autumn,  Chief  Trader 
Work  slid  down  to  Vancouver  and,  with  Tom  McKay 
and  a  troop  of  Canadians,  set  out  to  explore  the  fiords 
and  ramifications  of  Puget  Sound. 


Ill 
THE   KING  TRAVELS 

BYE,  bye,  papa !  " 
Little   Ranald   waved  his   feathered  cap  one 
blustery   March  morning  when  the  Vancouver 
express  came  flitting  by  Colville,  taking  on  Chief  Factor 
McDonald  and  spiriting  him  away  up  the  roaring  rivers 
of   Springtime.     In  July  he  was  at  York   Factory  on 
Hudson  Bay,  at  the  grand  council  of  the  United  Fur 
Traders. 

"  And  now "  -  Sir  George  Simpson,  Chief  of  the 
Hudson  Bay  Territory  in  British  America,  raised  a  sig 
nificant  finger  —  "  it  behooves  us  to  impress  upon  the 
Indians  the  fact  that  we  are  united.  From  the  North 
and  the  West  there  come  to  me  tales  of  war  and  trouble. 
I  propose  a  great  journey,  to  demonstrate,  once  for  all, 


28  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

that  treachery  must  cease.  And  from  his  special  knowl 
edge  of  the  country,  I  choose  Chief  Factor  McDonald 
to  be  my  guide  and  companion  on  what  will  be  the 
quickest  trip  ever  made  across  the  continent  of  North 
America.  We  start  to-morrow." 

The  Governor's  word  was  law ;  at  his  command  every 
fort-gate  would  fly  open,  and  every  lock  and  larder  turn 
out  its  stores,  from  Hudson  Bay  to  Athabasca  and  the 
Fraser.  For  the  King  travelled  when  Sir  George  moved. 
Out  of  their  beds  at  midnight,  plumed  and  feathered  and 
flaming  with  tinsel,  the  voyageurs  were  at  the  boats,  — 
such  boats !  higher  prowed  than  the  highest  birch  canoes 
ever  seen  in  the  Indian  country.  The  white  man's  magic 
had  joined  the  red  man's  intuition  in  creating  the  airiest 
craft  that  ever  rocked  upon  a  .northern  water,  gay  with 
paint,  —  studded  with  jewels,  the  Indians  thought ;  even 
the  blades  of  vermilion  glittered  in  the  July  moon;  for 
Sir  George  travelled,  in  state,  as  befitted  the  head  of  the 
greatest  fur  company  the  world  has  ever  known.  No 
one  entered  the  fairy  boats  but  Sir  George  and  McDonald, 
save  a  doctor  to  guard  their  health,  a  piper,  and  a  crew 
of  voyageurs,  "  Chosen,  sir,  to  paddle  the  Governor  across 
the  continent !  " 

"Honor  enough,  sir,  honor  for  a  lifetime!"  they 
would  have  told  you,  not  so  much  because  it  was  the 
Governor,  as  because  this  \vas  a  picked  crew,  the  swift 
est  in  all  Canada.  With  a  dash  of  Iroquois  in  their 
veins,  and  a  love  of  color  and  adventure,  this  was  for 
them  a  gala  morning. 

Behind  them  blew  the  night  wind  over  York,  "  St. 
Petersburg  of  America,"  dark  against  the  gray  sea  of 
Hudson ;  in  front,  chief  traders  and  factors  from  a  score 
of  sub-Arctic  forts,  proud  of  their  titles,  cheered  them 
selves  hoarse  and  hailed  the  departing  express.  "  God 
speed  you,  gentlemen !  "  Every  Iroquois  lifted  his  blade, 
the  boat-song  arose,  and  the  bagpipes  screamed,  as,  swan- 
like,  the  birch  barks  glided  up  Hayes  River  toward  Win 
nipeg.  Slowly  seven  guns  boomed  from  the  fading  fort 
on  Hudson  Bay. 

In  the  high  northern  latitude  daylight  came  at  two 


THE    KING   TRAVELS  29 

and  lingered  until  ten,  —  eighteen  hours  a  day.  A 
snatch  of  food,  a  sleep,  a  dream,  and  dawn  after  dawn 
found  them  off  before  the  sunrise.  Prairie  fires  swept 
the  land,  reddening  the  river  and  the  sky ;  the  water  was 
low,  the  sun  scorched,  the  portages  were  frequent,  but 
the  crews  were  over  them  in  a  trice  and  dipping  again 
their  shining  blades. 

Sir  George  spoke  seldom  in  that  stifling  July  heat;  to 
get  on  —  on  —  was  his  madness.  "  Mr.  McDonald,  you 
may  keep  the  journal ;  and,  Colin,  keep  the  pipes  going. 
This  must  be  a  record  trip."  So  the  piper  droned,  and 
McDonald  wrote,  and  the  panting  voyageurs  hummed 
the  airs  of  old  Normandy  to  give  the  piper  breathing 
spells.  In  six  days  they  had  climbed  the  rim  of  Hudson 
Bay  beyond  which  the  waters  flow  to  Winnipeg;  in 
eight,  from  the  signal  hill  of  rock  at  Norway  House 
flashed  the  flag  from  a  Norway-pine  shaft,  and  be 
neath,  a  little  hamlet  of  two  hundred  people,  employes 
of  the  fort,  greeted  the  Governor's  canoe  as  it  grace 
fully  rounded  the  point  and  turned  into  the  little  port 
at  their  feet. 

Never  such  a  pageant  had  come  to  Norway  House; 
far  away  they  had  heard  the  plumed  and  tartaned 
piper  skirling,  '  The  Campbells  are  coming,  hurray ! 
hurray !  "  Far  away  in  the  gorge  McDonald  the  bugle- 
man  had  waked  a  wild  chant;  and  now,  at  hand,  in 
full  orchestra,  rang  out  the  sweet  "  La  Claire  Fontaine  " 
of  the  voyageurs:  '•-,  . 

"  I  've  loved  thee  long  and  dearly, 
I  '11  love  thee,  Sweet,  for  aye." 

Love,  romance,  music,  thrilled  each  heart,  as  with 
palpitating  bosoms  the  children  of  the  wild  watched  the 
wondrous  spectacle.  Nothing,  nothing  so  grand  and  stir 
ring  had  ever  before  been  known  in  the  wilderness.  Sir 
George  had  created  the  desired  effect,  worth  more  than 
guns  and  forts  in  controlling  his  barbaric  dominion. 
The  same  McLeod  that  carried  the  pigs  and  calves  to 
Colville  was  master  now  at  Norway  House,  robust,  rubi 
cund,  snuff-box  in  hand,  beaming  in  conscious  pride  of 


3o  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

work  well  done,  ready  to  greet  his  chief.     For  Norway 
House  was  new,  and  the  work  of  his  own  direction. 

"  Did  Ranald  come?  "  piped  a  lad  in  his  units,  peering 
behind  the  Chief  Factor  for  his  playfellow  of  last  year. 
No  wonder  McDonald  snatched  the  child,  and  printed 
a  kiss  for  Ranald  so  far  away.  But  a  night  can  they 
tarry ;  to-morrow  Winnipeg  must  be  skirted,  —  the 
windiest  lake  in  the  world,  where  the  northers  sweep 
terrific,  - —  and  then  Saskatchewan,  Athabasca,  Peace 
River.  Why  follow  those  forerunners  of  future  great 
Canadian  railways?  Hundreds  of  miles  apart,  along 
these  linked  lakes  and  streams,  were  strung  the  forts,  - 
Cumberland  House,  Carlton  House,  Fort  Chipweyan, 
Dunvegan,  —  keystones  of  future  empire. 

The  silken  rustle  of  the  northern  lights  crinkled  in  the 
August  midnight;  September  brought  a  gleam  of  the 
Rockies.  "  Stupendous !  "  said  McDonald  in  his  journal. 
That  night  they  camped  on  the  ridge  line  of  the  con 
tinent,  in  the  very  heart  and  centre  of  the  Peace  River 
Pass  of  the  Rockies,  the  probable  route  of  the  future 
Grand  Trunk  Railroad  to  Port  Simpson  on  the  Pacific. 
Over  the  crest  they  went,  knights  of  the  fur  trade,  de 
livering  judgments  to  Indians  and  traders  alike;  boats 
cached  behind;  Sir  George,  McDonald,  the  doctor,  and 
the  piper  on  horses,  and,  trailing  in  their  wake,  a  train 
of  panting  voyageurs  laden  like  pack-mules. 

Fort  St.  James,  54°  north,  on  a  peninsula  in  Stuart 
Lake,  was  almost  in  sight.  "  For  the  sake  of  the  In 
dians,"  said  Sir  George,  "  make  the  grand  entry."  With 
flags  flying,  guns  booming,  bugles  and  pipers  striking 
the  march  of  the  clans,  "  Si  coma  leiim  cogadh  net  shea," 
—  "  Peace,  or  if  you  will  it,  war,"  —  the  glittering  vision 
burst  on  the  startled  fort  below.  Even  the  gaping  In 
dians  at  their  fishing  by  the  lake  felt  the  force  of  that 
Gaelic  greeting,  when  Sir  George  and  his  retinue  filed 
down  from  the  highlands  of  the  Rockies  into  New 
Caledonia. 

James  Douglas  met  and  escorted  them  in.  Only  a 
clerk  was  Douglas,  but  destined  one  day  himself  to  rule 
that  New  Caledonia,  the  British  Columbia  of  the  future. 


THE    KING   TRAVELS  31 

Scarce  were  greetings  exchanged  and  the  banquet  spread, 
when  hark !  across  Lake  Stuart  another  boat-song  trilled : 

"  I  've  loved  thee  long  and  dearly, 
I  '11  love  thee,  Sweet,  for  aye." 

Douglas  snatched  the  glass  and  peered  across  the  lake. 
"  Chief  Factor  Connolly,  as  I  live,  boys !  The  guns 
again !  "  and  a  second  time  the  salutes  shook  the  bastions. 
There,  on  the  summit  of  the  continent,  within  two  hours 
of  each  other,  as  by  preconcert  met  the  traders  from  two 
far  distant  oceans. 

"  And  pray,  sir,  when  did  you  leave  Vancouver  ? " 
inquired  Sir  George,  as  Chief  Factor  Connolly,  just  up 
from  the  Pacific  port  of  entry  on  the  Columbia,  shook 
the  water  from  his  paddle-blades. 

"On  the  twenty-third  of  June.     And  yourself ?" 

"  We  set  out  from  York  on  the  twelfth  of  July ;  and 
to-day  is—?" 

"  September  17,  1828,"  gravely  answered  McDonald, 
taking  out  the  calendar  and  completing  the  day's  record 
in  his  journal. 

Excitement  enough  was  this  for  one  day,  at  an  inland 
fort  where  for  months  in  the  year  no  footstep  was  heard 
save  the  almost  inaudible  cat-tread  of  the  moccasined  red 
man. 

"  And  your  family,  McDonald,  is  waiting  you  by  this 
time  at  the  new  Fort  Langley  on  the  Fraser.  They  left 
Vancouver  by  sea  on. the  i  Cadboro.' ' 

,  Really,  it  did  seem  as  if  unheard-of  expedition  had 
been  used  in  thus  transporting  passengers  from  end  to 
end  of  the  realms  of  Hudson  Bay.  Awed  by  the  large 
number  of  traders,  the  chief  Indians  of  the  country  gath 
ered  to  listen  to  the  mandates  of  the  Great  White  Chief 
of  all,  Sir  George  Simpson  himself. 

"  I  hear,"  began  Sir  George  in  an  awful  voice,  "  I 
hear  that  some  of  you  lately  dared  to  rebel  against  the 
trader  of  Fort  James.  I  deprecate  such  proceedings. 
How  helpless  would  be  your  situation  were  I  and  all 
my  people  to  enter  into  hostilities  against  you!  A  few 
of  the  guilty  I  hear  have  been  punished,  but  the  next 


32  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

time  the  whites  are  compelled  to  imbrue  their  hands  in 
the  blood  of  the  Indians  it  will  be  a  general  sweep. 
The  innocent  will  go  with  the  guilty,  and  your  fate 
will  be  deplorable  indeed!  Think  of  your  wives  and 
little  children;  for  it  will  be  hard  to  say  when  we 
will  stop,  —  never,  in  any  case,  until  the  Indians  give 
the  most  unqualified  proof  of  their  good  conduct  in 
the  future." 

And  so,  the  white  man  was  taking  over  the  Indian 
country ;  and  the  Indians  —  trembled.  No  such  awful 
chief  had  ever  before  laid  down  the  law.  Sir  George's 
blue  eye  blazed,  his  chest  expanded,  and  the  rather 
diminutive  Governor  suddenly  appeared  unmeasured  feet 
tall  and  endued  with  supernatural  power  to  hurl  the 
lightning  and  command  the  thunder.  No  one  better 
knew  how  to  awe  the  untamed  savage;  this,  in  fact,  was 
his  mission  and  the  object  of  his  entire  journey,  to  in 
timidate  and  inspire  the  red  man  with  a  salutary  fear  of 
the  mighty  fur  traders. 

But  now,  forgiveness  had  come;  the  piper  played  the 
Gaelic  Song  of  Peace;  there  were  little  gifts,  —  tobacco 
and  a  glass  of  rum ;  and  sadder  and  wiser  the  red  men 
filed  out  of  Fort  James.  And  yet,  all  that  North  was  full 
of  Indians  —  tens  of  thousands  —  questioning  the  right 
of  the  white  men.  Stormy  days  had  there  been,  stormy 
days  were  yet  to  come;  not  easily  would  the  red  man 
succumb  to  Caucasian  sway. 

By  horse  and  boat  again  the  victors  journeyed.  Sir 
George,  imperious,  impetuous,  tyrannical,  used  the  whip- 
hand  of  power  even  upon  his  faithful  voyageurs.  But 
not  everything  would  these  bold  boatmen  bear.  Once 
they  snatched  Sir  George  himself  and  dipped  him  into 
the  lake,  —  precisely  as  Charlefoux,  at  Vancouver,  once 
snatched  McLoughlin's  silver-headed  cane  and  flung  it 
into  the  Columbia,  where  it  lies  to  this  day  unrecovered. 
And  McLoughlin?  He  turned  on  his  heel  and  said  not 
a  word.  Nor  did  Sir  George.  There  is  a  point  beyond 
which  white  men  will  not  endure;  and  this,  precisely, 
makes  them  fear  and  respect  one  another. 

But  hark!     Down  the  foaming  Fraser  the  bugles  and 


RANALD    SEES    A    BATTLE  33 

bagpipes  are  coming,  coming!  Rapids,  eddies,  whirl 
pools,  mountains  rising  sheer  out  of  the  water,  bar  not 
the  way  of  these  bold  voyageurs.  With  a  sign  of  the 
cross  they  make  the  plunge,  leap  Simpson  Falls  under 
overhanging  cliffs  of  the  narrowest  gorge  of  the  Fraser 
Canyon,  and  run  on  down  to  Langley,  —  ninety  days 
from  sea  to  sea! 


IV 

RANALD   SEES   A   BATTLE 

BYE,  bye,  papa!" 
Ranald  and  his  mother  turned  back  that  March 
morning  when  McDonald  left  for  Hudson  Bay, 
and  settled  down  to  routine  at  Fort  Colville.  Chief 
Trader  Work  was  master  now,  busy  with  Flatheads  and 
Pend  d'Oreilles,  Cceur  d'Alenes,  and  Kootenais,  coming 
in  with  their  dog-sleds  over  the  fast-loosening  ice  of 
Springtime.  Four  months  had  Colville  been  locked  in 
her  Winter  vale,  the  Chief  Trader  fuming.  "  I  am  look 
ing  for  those  Flatheads  for  tallow.  We  are  out  of 
candles.  I  suspect  they  are  frozen  between  this  and  that, 
or  those  Americans  are  in  the  country !  "  But  now  the 
longed-for  Flatheads  were  coming  in  long  daily  proces 
sions,  laden  with  spoils  of  last  Winter's  buffalo  beyond 
the  mountains. 

Josette  (Madame  Work)  and  Jane  (Madame  Mc 
Donald)  were  busy  with  the  needle  and  the  children, 
weaving  wondrous  patterns  of  silk  and  beads  on  their 
buckskin  dresses,  to  be  ready  for  their  Summer  journeys. 
And  Baby  Work,  with  fluffy  rings  of  gold  around  her 
snowy  temples,  coped  and  clapped  her  tiny  hands  at 
Ranald.  How  the  Indians  pressed  their  noses  against 
the  cracks  in  the  stockade  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  trader's 
child !  "  From  above,  from  above !  "  they  whispered, 
with  hands  uplifted  at  sight  of  that  Caucasian  face. 

3 


34  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

^  Then,  with  the  June  floods,  had  come  Chief  Factor 
Connolly  down  from  St.  James  beyond  the  Fraser,  with 
his  fleet  of  skins  for  Fort  Vancouver.  And  with  him, 
from  Colville,  came  down  Ranald  and  his  mother,  on  the 
way  to  a  new  home  at  Fort  Langley. 

Some  unwonted  excitement  was  astir  at  Vancouver. 
The  armorers  were  stocking  rifles,  repairing  pistols,  and 
a  muster  of  effective  men  was  under  way  for  a  warlike 
expedition. 

"  Against  the  Clallams,  sir,  a  bloody  tribe!"  Ranald 
heard  Dr.  McLoughlin  saying  in  a  very  loud  voice  to 
Chief  Factor  Connolly.  "  We  have  just  built  Langley 
House,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Fraser;  and  Alexander 
Mackenzie  and  four  men,  on  their  way  back  here  with 
an  express,  were  foully  murdered  by  those  Clallams  on 
Puget  Sound.  I  am  telling  the  men  that  it  is  necessary 
to  go  in  search  of  the  murderers,  and,  if  possible,  make 
a  salutary  example  of  them.  The  honor  of  the  whites 
is  at  stake,  and  if  we  do  not  succeed  in  this  undertaking, 
it  will  be  dangerous  to  be  seen  by  the  Indians  at  any 
distance  from  the  fort  hereafter." 

No  word  was  ventured  by  the  men;  McLoughlin's 
statement  of  the  case  was  final,  until  Charlefoux  ventured 
an  ill-timed  objection. 

"  Out  of  the  hall,"  roared  the  Doctor,  lifting  his  cane. 
"  We  have  no  need  of  your  services !  "  Crestfallen,  poor 
Charlefoux  withdrew,  while  all  the  rest  volunteered  to 
go  to  the  savage  Sound  to  avenge  the  death  of  their 
comrades.  Now  of  all  things  Charlefoux  desired  to  go 
on  that  expedition,  and  one  by  one  he  begged  the  inter 
cession  of  his  friends,  until,  by  the  advice  and  counsel 
of  Connolly,  he  was  reinstated. 

It  was  June  7,  1828,  when  word  of  this  outrage  was 
received  on  the  arrival  of  voyageurs  from  the  North. 
Nearly  a  week  had  passed  already.  Sunday  night  the 
clerks  in  Bachelors'  Hall  discussed  the  situation.  Dease 
and  McLeod  already  knew  of  their  appointment.  "  Too 
frequently  have  we  tried  the  effects  of  our  rifles  together 
to  be  omitted  now.  And  you,  Mr.  Ermatinger,  and 
Mr.  Yale,  may  as  well  make  up  your  minds  to  follow." 


RANALD    SEES    A    BATTLE  35 

All  day  Monday  McLeod  and  Dease  were  busily  equip 
ping  the  men  with  arms,  and  a  little  ammunition  each 
to  try  them  with,  and  all  day  little  Ranald  watched 
preparations. 

"  Come  here,  Cumly !  "  Dease  beckoned  to  the  child. 
"  They  are  going  to  take  you  down  to  your  grandpa." 

"  No,  sir,"  shouted  Ranald ;  "  I  am  going  with  you  to 
fight  the  Clallams  on  Puget  Sound." 

In  fact,  McLoughlin  asked  no  one  to  go.  "  It  is  a 
delicate  matter,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  Take  your  watch, 
Frank,  take  your  watch."  That  was  enough;  Ermat- 
inger  knew  that  he  was  counted  one  of  the  volun 
teers,  and  yet  Dr.  McLoughlin  had  never  asked  him 
to  go.  That  night  the  men  were  regaled,  and  the 
Iroquois  went  through  a  war-dance  before  the  hall 
door.  Everybody  was  ready  for  the  battle. 

"  But  what  have  we  to  go  by?  "  some  one  ventured  to 
inquire.  "  That  Puget  Sound  region  is  untraversed,  and 
practically  unknown  to  any  one  of  us." 

"  By  Mr.  Work's  map,  of  .course,"  replied  the  Doctor. 
"  Two  years  ago  he  and  Tom  McKay  mapped  Puget 
Sound  and  explored  a  suitable  location  for  a  sea  fort  on 
the  Eraser,  where  now  we  have  built  Langley.  Innumer 
able  Indians  hover  along  the  coast  up  there,  —  greater 
scamps  never  were,  —  but  nothing  serious  happened  until 
last  January,  when  Mackenzie  and  his  men,  bringing  the 
express  overland  from  Langley,  met  death  at  the  hands 
of  those  savages."  '  v  I 

There  was  a  silence.  Not  a  man  there  but  had  loved 
Mackenzie  as  a  brother;  across  the  memory  of  more 
than  one  of  them  flashed  his  last  conversation,  for  at 
the  end  of  this  trip  Mackenzie  was  going  home,  tired  of 
the  fur  trade. 

"  For  what  profit  is  it,"  he  cried,  "  here  in  exile, 
starvation,  Indian  treachery,  piercing  cold  or  burning 
heat,  and  the  damp  earth  for  bed,  with  no  society  but 
stupid  Canadian  voyageurs,  or  selfish,  suspicious  natives, 
to  half  barbarize  myself  by  long  estrangement  from  civi 
lization?  And  should  I  survive  all  this  and  accumu 
late  a  fortune,  to  find,  on  returning  to  my  home  with 


36  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

broken-down  health,  the  friends  of  my  youth  dead,  myself 
forgotten,  and  my  Indian  wife  and  numerous  children 
subjects  of  insult  and  obloquy."  He  was  ready  to  go, 
and  had  bought  an  estate  in  Scotland,  only  now  to  be 
barbarously  murdered.  The  ship  on  which  he  would 
have  sailed  lay  with  her  flag  at  half-mast  in  the  harbor. 

"  Let  but  a  Clallam  show  his  flat  head ! "  roared 
Charlefoux,  flourishing  his  flintlock.  It  was  enough; 
the  war  spirit  is  easily  aroused,  —  too  easily  when  not 
in  requisition.  But  to-day  the  Doctor  humored  all.  By 
four  o'clock  the  fighting  guard  was  put  in  motion.  Down 
past  the  fort  they  marched,  each  man  discharging  his 
piece,  and  a  salute  of  cannon  belched  from  the  bastion 
in  honor  of  the  embarkation.  Instead  of  a  round  of 
guns,  three  cheers  broke  from  the  crew  of  the  "  Eagle," 
lying  in  the  roads. 

"Short  of  powder?"  gayly  inquired  Ermatinger  as 
his  brigade  passed  by. 

In  five  boats  the  men  put  out  down  the  Columbia,  — 
McLeod,  Dease,  Yale,  Ermatinger,  of  the  clerks,  and 
La  Framboise,  leader  in  fact;  Charlefoux,  Gervais, 
Desportes,  all  out  of  the  Willamette,  together  with 
French  guides,  Iroquois  Indians,  Hawaiians  who  came 
with  Astor's  people  years  before,  and  Chinook  slaves,  — 
these  last  were  particularly  designed  to  carry  news  of  the 
destruction  of  the  Clallam  village  to  the  Chinooks,  who 
had  been  obstreperous  of  late,  especially  since  McDonald 
had  carried  away  the  grandson  of  old  King  Cumcumly. 

Already  the  little  "  Cadboro  "  had  dropped  down  the 
river  with  Ranald  and  his  stepmother  on  board,  to  sail 
around  by  sea  and  meet  the  Vancouver  fighting  force 
at  the  end  of  their  march  overland.  Two  masts  and  six 
guns  had  the  "  Cadboro,"  and  a  fighting  crew  of  thirty- 
five  men,  —  a  welcome  reinforcement  to  the  overland 
squad  who  were  coming  by  the  Cowlitz.  "  To  fight  the 
Clallams !  to  fight  the  Clallams !  "  joyously  shouted  little 
Ranald,  who,  to  his  own  surprise,  actually  found  him 
self  going  to  the  scene  of  hostilities.  Leaning  forward 
over  the  "  Cadboro's  "  side,  Jane  held  him  by  the  feet. 
Eagerly  the  small  boy  watched  the  men  in  boats  turning 


RANALD    SEES    A    BATTLE  37 

off  at  the  mouth  of  the  River  Cowlitz  a  few  miles  below 
Vancouver,  to  ascend  its  current  and  cross  to  the  head  of 
the  Sound ;  eagerly,  lower  down,  he  scanned  the  shore 
for  signs  of  his  old  Chinook  home  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Columbia. 

Sure  enough,  the  Chinooks  were  out  in  their  racing 
canoes,  the  boats  he  had  seen  them  carve  in  his  baby 
days,  forty  feet  long  with  prows  like  a  swan's  neck, 
beaded  with  marine  shells  and  gayly  vermilioned.  As 
recalling  some  half -forgotten  preexistence,  the  precocious 
youngster  noted  the  airy  craft,  well  stanchioned,  with 
ribs  and  thwarts,  and  tight  as  drums,  skimming  over  the 
shining  sea. 

For  old  King  Cumcumly  had  spied  the  "  Cadboro." 
In  short  order  his  state  canoe  was  alongside;  his  maple 
paddle  dropped  as  he  tumbled  on  board,  and,  in  most 
unkingly  fashion,  the  old  man  grabbed  the  child.  Yes, 
Jane  would  let  little  Ranald  visit  his  grandfather.  Much 
mollified,  old  Cumcumly  bore  him  away.  A  born  rider 
of  the  sea,  little  Ranald,  undaunted,  found  himself  swing 
ing  from  the  crest  of  one  long  rolling  wave  deep  into 
the  cavernous  green  hollow  of  another,  hugging  his  ugly 
old  grandfather,  brother  to  the  deep.  What  ages  lay 
behind  them,  what  ancestral  journeys  from  their  far-off 
Asian  home  across  the  swells  of  the  blue  Pacific! 

At  the  royal  lodge  Carcumcum  met  them,  —  the  King's 
sister,  in  her  siwash  boat  and  beaded  anklets,  and  her  son 
Ellewa,  with  his  wife  and  their  ( slaves,  and  his  uncle 
Ilwaco,  smiling  with  pride  upon  the  little  Chinook  prince 
who  was  also  a  descendant  of  the  ancient  kings  of 
Scotland.  Ranald  munched  service-berry  cake,  slaves 
waited  upon  him,  and  the  children  he  used  to  know  ran 
in  from  their  old  play  of  toy-boating  on  the  summer 
water  with  shouts  of  "  Kla-how-ya?  kla-how-ya? " 
("How  do  you  do,  Cumcumly?") 

"  And  you  shall  be  chief  when  I  am  gone,"  said  the 
old  King,  hanging  siwash  dollars  on  his  neck,  long 
strings  of  snowy  shell  haiqua,  legal  tender  and  state 
currency  of  the  King  of  the  Columbia  River.  "  You 
shall  be  chief." 


3s  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

But  the  "  Cadboro  "  Captain  blew  his  horn,  and  Ranald 
struggled  with  his  august  grandfather,  shouting  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  "  No,  no,  no !  I  am  going  to  fight  the 
Clallams  on  Puget  Sound !  "  Such  martial  spirit  was 
not  to  be  resisted,  especially  when  the  Captain's  gig  was 
at  the  strand.  Old  Cumcumly  himself  gave  him  up, 
waving  a  fond  farewell  while  the  "  Cadboro "  tumbled 
in  a  lively  manner  over  the  bar  into  the  Pacific.  Jane 
tucked  him  into  his  little  berth  and  fell  asleep  herself. 

When  Ranald  waked,  the  wind  came  fresh  from  the 
west,  and  the  "  Cadboro  "  flew  before  it  under  all  sail 
into  the  Strait  of  Juan  de  Fuca,  the  entrance  of  Puget 
Sound.  There  were  whoops  of  Indians,  and  the  splash 
of  paddles  on  the  way  to  the  fishing-grounds,  Makah 
Indians  at  Cape  Flattery,  drifting  in  their  canoes  seaward 
for  halibut,  and  whales,  and  seals.  How  wild  is  the  water 
at  Cape  Flattery!  Old  Cumcumly  could  have  told,  for 
in  his  young  days  he  had  fought  there,  amid  the  thunder 
of  the  surf  booming  on  the  rock.  Bold  seamen  were 
those  coast  tribes,  unheeding  the  whistling  wind  and  the 
careening  of  their  canoes,  that  rocked  and  outrode  the 
gale. 

Eastward  from  the  Makahs  dwelt  the  Clallams;  they 
never  pursued  the  whale  or  the  seal;  even  their  canoes 
were  different,  —  low  and  straight.  "  Ah-h-h-h-h!  " 
scornfully  laughed  the  bold  Makahs.  "  We  brave,  —  go 
far  out  on  the  ocean  and  harpoon  big  whale.  The  Clal 
lams  are  salmon  eaters,  fish  with  women.  Ah-h-h-h-h!  " 
still  ra*ng  their  scornful  laugh  out  over  the  waters  as  the 
swift  little  "  Cadboro  "  scudded  by. 

Somewhere  about  the  present  Port  Townsend  the 
"  Cadboro  "  paused,  looking  for  the  men  who  had  come 
overland.  And  they?  Struggling  up  the  flood  of  the 
Cowlitz,  a  single  Indian  had  met  them  with  the  word, 
"  The  Clallams  are  divided !  Yes,  you  can  hire  horses 
of  me." 

"  Divided  ?  What  does  that  mean  ?  "  the  party  were 
wondering. 

"  God  bless  you,  gentlemen,  I  do  beg  of  you  not  to 
believe  all  you  hear,"  impatiently  exclaimed  the  irascible 


RANALD    SEES    A    BATTLE  39 

Roderick  McLeod,  not  half  so  genial  as  his  brother 
McLeod  of  Norway  House.  "  God  bless  you,  gentle 
men,  these  Indians  are  liars.  Our  attack  must  be 
made  secretly." 

La  Framboise,  the  interpreter,  —  for  Framboise  could 
talk  any  Indian  lingo,  —  had  been  sent  for  the  horses, 
and  returned  with  a  sorry  train.  Boats  were  cached, 
and,  more  like  a  pack  of  gypsies  than  a  war  party,  the 
men  had  straggled  through  the  woods,  to  meet  the 
"  Cadboro."  Very  silent,  very  mysterious  was  McLeod, 
and  not  overly  loved ;  but  now  that  they  had  actually 
come  into  the  Indian  country,  night  watches  must  be 
set.  Hovering  around  the  fire,  the  hungry  men  watched 
the  boiling  pot  under  the  misty  starlight,  when  loud  and 
clear  rang  the  first  night-watch,  "  All 's  well !  " 

"  In  the  pot,"  added  the  cook,  pointing  where  a  fat 
young  horse  was  simmering  for  supper.  The  reckless 
voyageurs  fell  over  one  another  with  laughter. 

"  Laugh  !  "  cried  McLeod,  scandalized.  "  Laugh,  at 
the  risk  of  your  lives?  The  next  time  any  one  laughs 
he  loses  his  wages !  " 

"  De  divil ! "  whispered  La  Framboise  behind  his 
leader's  back.  "  De  divil  tak'  me  when  I  lose  me  wages 
eef  I  weel  be  at  de  trouble  to  hunt  for  dem !  "  Again  the 
fun-loving  voyageurs  snickered  like  schoolboys  pestering 
a  master. 

"  Your  turn  next  to  the  watch/'  roared  McLeod  to 
the  last  offender. 

Poor  La  Penzer  trembled.  "  t  am  afraid.  I  am  not 
capable,  Monsieur !  "  In  fact,  more  than  one  voyageur 
was  afraid  of  the  unknown  perils  of  Puget  Sound. 

"  And  what  are  we  to  do  when  we  reach  the  Clallams?" 
Kind-hearted  Ermatinger  turned  attention  from  the 
trembling  Frenchman. 

"  What  are  we  to  do  ?  "  roared  the  leader,  with  un 
necessary  warmth..  "  We  must  come  to  a  parley  and  get 
the  woman." 

"  The  woman !  What  woman  ?  We  never  heard  there 
was  any  woman,"  declared  the  clerks  in  one  breath. 

"  Yes,  Mackenzie's  woman ;    she  was  taken  when  our 


40  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON- 

men  were  killed."  McLeod  scowled  as  he  spoke.  "  She 
is  a  chief's  daughter ;  her  father  has  great  influence  with 
his  tribe  to  do  mischief  to  the  whites.  On  this  account 
her  liberty  must  be  had  at  any  consideration."  . 

"  If  that  is  all  -  "  began  Ermatinger,  then  hesitated. 
"  It  is,  indeed,  a  laudable  wish  to  set  the  poor  woman 
at  liberty;  but  that  can  always  be  done  at  the  price  of 
a  few  blankets  without  so  many  men  coming  so  far. 
But  to  make  it  the  chief  object  of  our  expedition,  —  we 
never  understood,  nor,  indeed,  had  we  known,  would 
we  ever  have  agreed  to  it.  But  after  we  get  the  woman, 
what?" 

"  Why,  at  them,  pell-mell,"  growled  McLeod,  who 
may  himself  have  felt  some  disgust  on  the  subject;  for 
stolen  Helens  had  caused  more  than  one  war  on  that 
Northwest  coast.  Somehow  the  fighting  spirit  had  gone 
down  to  zero.  But  then,  the  "  Cadboro  " !  Yes,  the 
"  Cadboro  "  would  be  there! 

On  the  last  of  June,  about  dark,  they  heard  the 
"  Cadboro's  "  guns.  Gayly  the  Iroquois,  the  Hawaiians, 
and  the  two  Chinooks  painted  for  battle.  The  terrified 
Clallams  ran  to  and  fro  at  sight  of  this  double  foe;  and 
Ranald  himself,  on  the  schooner,  came  near  precipitat 
ing  the  fray  by  leaping  astride  a  cannon  with  a  lighted 
match  above  the  touchhole.  With  a  cuff  the  Captain 
snatched  him  down.  "  Do  that  again  and  I  '11  give  you 
a  dose  of  hazel  tea.  Here,  steward,  take  the  child !  " 

In  short,  the  Clallam  village  was  destroyed,  the  woman 
was  given  up,  Mackenzie's  property  was  found,  and  a 
large  quantity  of  provisions,  sturgeon's  heads  and  tails, 
some  train  oil,  and  about  thirty  canoes,  were  burned,  along 
with  the  buildings.  Never,  never  again  were  the  Clal 
lams  known  to  molest  a  white  man.  The  "  Cadboro  " 
ran  over  to  Langley,  where  Ranald  and  his  mother  were 
set  down  to  wait  for  the  coming  of  that  father  flitting 
across  the  continent.  From  the  distant  Fraser  gorge 
one  October  night  there  came  a  skirl  of  the  bagpipes. 

"  That  is  Colin  Fraser's  pipe !  I  know  it !  "  screamed 
Ranald.  The  next  moment  the  boats  slid  into  port,  and 
Ranald  leaped  into  the  arms  of  his  Highland  father. 


THE    STRATEGIES    OF    TRADE  41 

The  "  Cadboro  "  took  on  Sir  George  and  his  piper,  and 
hurried  away  to  Vancouver.  McDonald  remained,  with 
little  Yale  for  clerk,  and  seventeen  Canadians,  to  take 
charge  of  Fort  Langley,  the  first  sea  fort  on  the 
Fraser. 

Late  in  that  Autumn  of  1 1828  a  damaged  whaler  ran 
into  Puget  Sound,  and  was  beached  for  repairs.  The 
Clallams  saw  her  pass,  and  wept  —  at  the  memory  of 
white  men.  New  spars  were  cut  from  the  timber  near 
by,  a  leak  was  stopped,  the  canvas  mended,  and  for  a 
week  or  two  trade  was  brisk  with  the  Indians  of  Chief 
Seattle.  Then  away  the  bold  Nantucket  whaler  sped, 
ploughing  the  North  Pacific,  and  skidding  along  the 
shores  of  Japan. 


V 

THE   STRATEGIES   OF  TRADE 

,  Jane,  look  at  God!  " 

A  few  steps  within  the  gates  at  Fort  Van- 
couver,  walking  up  to  the  Big  House,  two 
timid  children  paused  and  gazed,  impressed  with  the 
majesty  of  Dr.  McLoughlin  standing  at  the  door. 
"  Look,  Jane,"  again  whispered  Sarah,  pulling  at  her 
sister's  dress,  "  he  is  speaking  to  us !  " 

"  Come  in,  little  ones,  out  of  the  hot  sun.  Don't  be 
afraid!" 

The  Doctor,  with  mane  of  snowy  hair  down  his  shoul 
ders,  and  skin  pink  as  rose  petals,  smiled  and  extended 
his  hands  as  he  saw  them  drawing  back,  and  yet  with 
wondering  blue  eyes  fixed  upon  him.  They  were  fairer 
than  any  children  that  had  ever  entered  that  big  old  gate, 
with  hair  like  tow,  bleached  in  the  sun,  and  tiny  little 
hands  filled  with  flowers,  —  always  with  flowers,  —  which 
they  ever  flew  to  pick  wherever  the  boats  touched  shore. 


42  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

V 

"Wife,  look  after  the  children,"  cried  the  Doctor, 
snatching  his  bell-crowned  hat  and  his  cane  as  he  hur 
ried  out.  "  Right  this  way,  Madame  Work,  right  this 
way !  "  Josette  was  at  the  gate,  leading  Baby  Letitia 
by  the  hand.  "  Lord  bless  you,  Madame,  what  hand 
some  children  you  have !  Right  up  to  the  house,  Madame, 
right  up  to  the  house."  He  waved  his  hand  and  was 
gone  before  Josette  had  time  to  answer.  But  the  Doctor 
turned  again  and  looked :  "  Pretty  woman,  too.  Wonder 
where  the  old  Scot  found  her  up  there  in  the  Indian 
country." 

Madame  McLoughlin,  a  short  fat  little  woman,  with 
the  kindliest  face  in  the  world,  herself  came  down  the 
steps'  and  led  the  baby  up.  "  You  haf  one  long  jour 
ney,  Madame  Work.  You  haf  come  een  good  time; 
Mrs.  Douglas  haf  twins!  Plenty  of  children  arount 
Fancouver ! " 

The  summer  brigades  of  1832  were  gathering  from 
rivers  of  the  north  and  the  south,  out  of  the  mountains 
and  up  from  the  sea.  Madame  Work,  "  the  bravest 
woman  in  the  country,"  men  said,  was  quickly  closeted 
with  the  women,  glad  once  more  of  the  shelter  of  a  fort. 
"  Yes,"  with  a  shy  laugh  in  answer  to  a  volley  of  ques 
tions,  "  Letitia  was  born  on  de  Port  Neuf  among  de 
hostile  Snake.  When  she  two  day  old  I  mount  my  horse 
for  de  Missouri;  and  dere,  dere- 

It  was  of  no  use  to  tell  the  rest ;  rumor  of  it  had  already 
reached  Vancouver.  In  fact,  at  that  very  moment  her 
husband  was  discussing  the  Blackfeet  in  the  council  now 
assembling  in  the  hall  next  door ;  only  a  wall  lay  between. 
The  women  listened. 

"And  so  you  met  the  Blackfeet?"  The  men  were 
noisily  shoving  chairs,  and  the  wine  decanter  gurgled. 

"  Lord,  yes !  Difficulties  commenced  at  the  very  out 
set.  Men  sick  all  the  way  up  to  the  Snake  and  beyond. 
Then,  in  crossing  the  mountains  by  a  new  road  on  the 
borders  of  the  Blackfoot  country,  those  barbarians  im 
mediately  fell  upon  us,  and  allowed  no  respite,  but  kept 
continually  hovering  around.  We  had  several  different 
battles,  six  men  killed  and  more  wounded;  but  on  the 


THE    STRATEGIES    OF    TRADE  43 

last  day  of  January  we  had  our  hardest  tussle,  in  which 
I  burst  a  cannon  and  was  wounded  myself." 

"  Any  Americans  over  there?  "  inquired  a  trader,  who 
had  himself  suffered  at  the  hands  of  those  rivals. 

"  Yes ;  five  Americans  from  Salmon  River  called  on 
me,  and  later  a  troop  passed  one  day,  chasing  buffaloes. 
They  did  not  stop,  or  they  would  have  been  asked  to  eat 
by  our  people.  Indeed,  it  was  not  known  they  were 
short  of  food  until  they  were  gone.  But  Lord,  men,  do 
you  know  the  Americans  are  making  a  treaty  with  the 
Blackfeet?" 

"  A  treaty !  "  This  was  startling  news.  Long  since 
it  had  been  known  that  the  Americans  had  won  over  the 
Flatheads,  in  fact,  always  had  been  friends  of  the  Flat- 
heads  since  Lewis  and  .Clark  camped  among  them  some 
twenty  odd  years  before.  But  the  Blackfeet  — 

"  I  thought  they  were  inveterate  enemies !  "  ejaculated 
Dr.  McLoughlin. 

Reason  enough  had  the  Doctor  for  such  a  belief,  for 
again  and  again  had  venturesome  American  traders 
endeavored  to  open  a  depot  at  the  forks  of  the  Missouri, 
and  ever  the  implacable  Blackfeet  had  routed  them  out 
and  cut  them  off.  Even  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  had 
tried  to  establish  posts  in  the  Blackfoot  country,  but  the 
savages  frequently  plundered  and  finally  burnt  them. 
But  a  change  had  come:  the  Blackfeet  had  journeyed  to 
Fort  Union  and  solemnly  signed  a  contract  with  the 
Americans,  "  that  so  long  as  the  water  runs  and  the 
grass  grows  they  will  hail  each  other  as  brethren,  and 
smoke  the  calumet  in  friendship  and  security." 

"  All  the  result  of  bad  management  on  our  part  —  bad 
management !  "  roared  the  Doctor,  stamping  the  floor 
with  an  angry  foot.  "  I  knew  Kenneth  Mackenzie ;  not 
a  better  man  among  the  Nor'westers.  But  when  the 
coalition  was  made  they  left  him  out,  gentlemen,  left 
him  out !  " 

In  consequence,  Kenneth  Mackenzie  had  gone  over 
to  the  Americans,  and  now,  under  the  American  Fur 
Company,  lived  at  Fort  Union,  on  the  Upper  Missouri, 
in  a  state  surpassing  Vancouver  itself.  A  born  leader, 


44  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

lavishly  hospitable,  he  turned  Hudson  Bay  methods 
against  Hudson  Bay  itself,  and  rivalled  even  McLough- 
lin  in  the  extent  of  his  empire.  Old  friends  they  had 
been,  and  now  they  were  rivals  to  the  death.  It  was 
as  if  the  old  Highland  feuds  had  been  transported  here 
and  the  clans  were  fighting  for  the  fur  trade. 

If  McLoughlin  was  king  of  the  Columbia,  Kenneth 
Mackenzie  was  king  of  the  Missouri;  he  dressed  as  a 
king,  and  ruled  as  an  autocrat  from  Superior  to  Salt 
Lake  and  from  St.  Louis  to  Santa  Fe.  His  trappers 
knew  the  mountains,  had  thridded  every  stream,  and  now 
annually  won  furs  from  Vancouver  itself.  Indians  from 
everywhere  came  to  Fort  Union  to  trade;  a  born  diplo 
mat,  a  commander,  Mackenzie  summoned  them  even  from 
the  Saskatchewan  to  bring  in  their  treasures  to  Fort 
Union.  No  wonder  McLoughlin  fumed.  And  William 
Laidlaw  was  another  Northwester  thrown  overboard, 
only  to  land  right  side  up  in  charge  of  the  American 
Fort  Pierre  in  the  land  of  the  Dakotas.  And  now 
Mackenzie  had  a  steamboat  puffing  up  the  Missouri! 

This  was  in  '32.  McLoughlin  heard  of  it.  "  And 
why  can't  we  have  a  steamboat  ?  "  The  request  was  sent 
to  London. 

And  who  was  behind  Kenneth  Mackenzie?  John 
Jacob  Astor.  Since  that  day,  in  1813,  when  he  lost 
Astoria,  the  great  fur  trader  had  not  been  idle.  Slowly 
he  was  pushing  out  from  the  East,  with  the  American 
Fur  Company,  taking  the  land  behind  the  mountains. 
By  way  of  the  Lakes  and  Missouri  River,  Astor  was 
coming  again  to  the  coast.  The  very  Americans  who 
built  the  old  posts  at  Astoria,  Okanogan,  and  Spokane 
were  coming  back  to  their  own. 

Faint  glimpses  the  Britons  had  of  these  events;  they 
knew  that  Americans  had  fallen  in  with  their  trappers 
on  the  Snake,  and  had  bought  up  their  catch  —  a  hundred 
beaver  skins  —  at  a  fraction  of  its  value,  but  they  did  not 
know  that  even  now  the  Nez  Perce  Flatheads  were  send 
ing  ambassadors  to  St.  Louis  asking  for  teachers  to  come 
out  to  their  country.  Americans  were  exploring  the 
great  West.  Hark !  Could  Vancouver  have  listened,  she 


THE    STRATEGIES    OF    TRADE  45 

might  almost  have  heard  the  hum  of  voices  beyond 
the  mountains;  a  nation  was  coming  —  coming  to  the 
western  sea.  North  and  south,  with  tremendous  energy, 
the  two  great  English-speaking  peoples  of  the  world  were 
taking  the  continent  of  North  America,  setting  Caucasian 
stakes  each  year  nearer  and  nearer  Asia. 

Indeed,  in  that  very  October  of  '24,  when  McLoughlin 
first  came  down  the  Columbia  to  the  Oregon  country, 
General  Ashley  of  St.  Louis  was  setting  out  up  the 
Platte  with  a  fleet  of  keel-boats  laden  with  men  and 
merchandise.  Paddling  and  poling,  with  Albert  Gallatin 
Boone,  grandson  of  Daniel  Boone,  as  his  private  secretary, 
Ashley  came  to  the  mountains,  then,  through  the  newly 
discovered  South  Pass,  and  camped  on  the  shores  of 
Utah  Lake.  Peter  Skeen  Ogden's  trappers  were  there 
with  a  hundred  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  beaver. 
4  Trade  to  me,"  said  Ashley.  "  I  '11  pay  you  a  better 
price  than  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  " ;  and  to  Ashley 
they  sold  for  a  song.  When  Ogden  arrived,  in  vain  he 
remonstrated;  his  furs  were  gone,  and  thirty-eight  of 
his  best  trappers  had  deserted  to  the  American  banner. 
As  Ashley's  caravan  wended  eastward  in  the  Summer  of 
'25,  they  met  a  United  States  military  expedition  making 
treaties  with  Otoes,  Omahas,  Pawnees,  and  Crows,  pre 
paring  the  way  to  the  West.  Ashley's  boats  joined  them 
on  the  homeward  sweep,  to  report  to  Congress  that 
British  traders  were  trespassing  on  American  territory. 

Overwhelmed  with  debt,  Ashley  had  gone  out;  back 
he  came  with  the  greatest  collection  of  furs  ever  brought 
to  St.  Louis.  Everything  was  Ashley  then,  —  Ashley 
boats  and  Ashley  beaver,  —  and  all  the  young  men 
were  wild  for  the  fur  trade.  In  that  very  Summer  of 
'27,  when  the  little  schooner  "  Cadboro  "  went  over  to 
build  Fort  Langley,  Ashley  was  out  again,  with  sixty 
mounted  men,  hauling  a  cannon  to  his  fort  on  Utah 
Lake. 

"  But  we  can  hold  our  own,"  said  McLoughlin,  as 
repeated  inroads  of  the  Americans  were  reported  at 
Fort  Vancouver.  "  The  Columbia  beaver  sells  higher 
than  any  other  in  North  America.  I  broke  up  the 


46  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

American  party  on  the  Snake  last  year  by  simply  under 
selling  them.  We  can  continue  to  undersell;  for  does 
it  not  stand  to  reason  that  it  is  easier  to  carry  supplies 
up  the  Columbia  by  water  than  for  Americans  to  pack 
them  across  the  mountains  on  horses  ?  This  land  is  ours 
if  we  can  hold  it." 

"  But  what  are  we  going  to  do  about  the  coast  ?  " 
inquired  James  Douglas,  who  had  come  down  to  live  at 
Vancouver.  "  We  may  hold  the  land ;  but  the  sea  ?  " 

"  To  compete  with  these  Boston  traders  we  must  have 
permanent  posts  and  swift-sailing  schooners  to  ply  be 
tween  them,"  quickly  answered  the  resourceful  Doctor. 
"  Then,  whenever  information  of  an  American  trader 
in  the  vicinity  reaches  any  of  these  posts,  a  loaded  vessel 
may  be  despatched  with  merchandise,  offered  to  the  In 
dians  at  lower  prices,  —  less,  indeed,  than  in  London  or 
Boston, — if  by  any  means  we  may  crush  out  opposition." 

At  the  north  lay  Langley  on  the  Fraser,  precisely  as 
lay  Vancouver  on  the  Columbia,  a  few  miles  up  from  the 
sea,  to  catch  both  coast  and  inland  trade.  But  McDonald 
wrote  down,  complaining :  "  Oh,  the  turmoil  and  vexa 
tion  of  the  life  of  an  Indian  trader!  When  it  is  not 
Indians  it  is  Americans !  " 

No  matter  how  busy  he  was,  they  poached  on  his 
preserves.  "  Here,"  he  wrote,  "  in  the  face  of  three 
American  vessels,  I  have  collected  two  thousand  skins, 
but  what  might  it  not  have  been  but  for  these  bump 
tious  Boston  traders  with  neckerchiefs  and  shirt  collars 
up  to  their  ears?"  Like  the  Indian  himself,  McDonald 
spoke  with  graphic  diction ;  almost  over  the  wireless 
spaces  they  could  hear  him  snort. 

Some  one  said,  "  McNeill !  "  The  very  name  was  a 
challenge  with  that  Scotch  prefix,  —  a  reminder  of  old 
days  of  Highland  conflict.  Captain  William  McNeill 
was  a  Yankee  trader,  born  in  Boston,  and  sent  out  by  a 
Boston  firm  with  a  cargo  of  Yankee  notions.  Under  his 
lead  Americans  swept  the  coast,  realizing  enormous  for 
tunes  in  the  fur  trade.  He  haunted  the  Fraser,  he  sailed 
up  the  Columbia  with  his  Yankee  brig,  the  "  Llama," 
completely  capturing  the  red  men,  with  squeaking  cats 


THE    STRATEGIES    OF   TRADE  47 

and  dogs,  wooden  soldiers  and  jumping- jacks,  little 
red  wagons  and  tin  whistles.  Right  under  the  guns  of 
Fort  Vancouver  he  went  calmly  on  trading  with  the 
Indians. 

"  I  suggest  a  coalition,"  blurted  Duncan  Finlayson. 
Everybody  laughed,  but  Finlayson  went  on :  '  The 
strong  opposition  in  this  Northwest  renders  it  absolutely 
necessary  to  take  some  steps  for  the  protection  of  the 
trade,  or  abandon  it  altogether.  Purchase  the  '  Llama/ 
Her  captain  knows  the  coast;  he  is  an  able  seaman,  a 
sharp  trader,  and,  I  believe,  an  honest  man.  Take  him 
into  our  business." 

"  A  good  suggestion,"  McLoughlin  agreed.  "  I 
commission  you,  Mr.  Finlayson,  to  see  what  can  be 
done." 

The  upshot  was  that  Finlayson,  fast  in  the  wake  of 
the  "  Llama,"  sailed  for  the  Sandwich  Islands  with  a 
cargo  of  salmon  and  timber  from  the  Columbia,  and 
with  the  proceeds,  about  six  thousand  dollars,  won  over 
McNeill,  purchased  his  brig,  a  fine  new  copper-bottom 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  tons,  and  engaged  the  Captain 
to  continue  the  command  of  her  for  the  Hudson  Bay 
Company.  "  This,  I  trust,  will  give  affairs  a  favorable 
turn,"  he  remarked,  as  the  Boston  captain,  "  with  shirt 
collar  and  neckerchief  up  to  his  ears,"  came  stamping  into 
the  hall  at  Vancouver,  ready  to  enter  heart  and  soul  into 
the  British  commercial  battle. 

Every  day  plans  were  evolved  in  the  great  hall,  and 
presently  Madame  Work  discovered  that  she  herself  was 
under  discussion.  In  the  rotation  of  fields  Chief  Factor 
Work  had  been  assigned  to  lead  the  brigade  to  California. 
Eminently  domestic  in  his  nature,  much  better  would  it 
have  pleased  Mr.  Work  to  retire  again  to  the  snug  berth 
at  Fort  Colville. 

"  But  Tom  McKay  must  go  to  the  Snake  this  year ; 
and  La  Framboise  is  needed  in  New  Caledonia,  so  there 
is  nothing  for  us,  Mr.  Work,  but  to  send  you  to  the  land 
of  the  Spaniards." 

No  true  trader  ever  complained  of  his  post,  at  least  to 
his  chief,  but  that  hot  August  night  in  Bachelors'  Hall 


48  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Chief  Trader  Work  indited  a  letter  to  his  friend,  Edward 
Ermatinger,  who  had  gone  to  Canada. 

"  I  am  going  to  start  with  my  ragamuffin  free  men 
south  toward  the  Spanish  settlement.  ...  I  am  tired  of 
this  cursed  country,  Ned,  and  becoming  more  dissatisfied 
every  day  with  the  measures  in  'it.  Things  don't  go  fair. 
I  don't  think  I  shall  remain  long.  My  plan  is  to  hide 
myself  in  some  out-of-the-way  corner  and  drag  out  the 
remainder  of  my  days  .as  quietly  as  possible.  Josette  is 
well.  We  have  now  three  little  girls ;  they  accompanied 
me  these  last  two  years,  but  I  leave  them  behind  this 
one.  The  misery  is  too  great.  I  shall  be  very  lonely 
without  them,  but  the  cursed  life  exposes  them  to  too 
much  hardship." 

"  Yes,  the  little  girls  and  their  mother  can  stay  here," 
the  Doctor  was  saying;  in  fact,  Vancouver  was  the 
temporary  home  of  many  families  of  the  fur  traders 
when  the  fathers  w^ere  gone  on  hazardous  journeys. 

"  Stay  here?  "  Madame  Work  scouted  the  plan.  "  By 
no  means.  Am  I  not  your  wife,  entitled  to  share  all 
your  hardships?  " 

"  A  brave  woman,"  said  McLoughlin.     "  Let  her  go." 

So  when  Autumn  flamed  in  the  Willamette,  Chief 
Trader  Work,  with  his  Canadians  and  two  hundred 
horses,  was  wending  his  way  to  the  south.  The  men 
liked  Mr.  Work ;  he  was  a  humane  and  reasonable  master, 
indulgent  and  considerate.  Scotch  half-breeds  and  French 
were  these  wood-runners,  immense  in  size  and  weight, 
extraordinary  in  width  of  shoulder  and  general  strength, 
ready  to  dip  a  paddle  or  guide  a  fiery  cayuse.  Each  had 
his  favorite  accomplishment,  —  to  shoot  a  bird  on  the 
wing  or  bring  down  a  deer  running,  to  slaughter  an  elk 
and  in  fifteen  minutes  have  all  its  meat  cooking  and  its 
skin  laced  on  their  feet  for  moccasins;  these  were  the 
men  that  made  up  the  Spanish  brigade.  Bare-necked  in 
summertime,  fierce,  fiery,  and  proud,  every  night  they 
set  out  from  the  camping  spot  with  enormous  double- 
springed  rat-traps  on  their  backs,  sure  to  snare  a  beaver 
or  a  bear  for  breakfast. 

Barely  had  their  last  bannerol  disappeared  beyond  the 


A   YANKEE    SCHOOLMASTER  49 

Columbia,  when  Dr.  McLoughlin  turned  abruptly  back 
to  Duncan  Finlayson. 

"  I  have  sent  for  Archie  McDonald,  Duncan.  He 
knows  the  coast,  tramping  back  and  forth  from  Langley. 
Three  years  ago  he  wanted  a  sawmill  on  Puget  Sound 
Falls,  where  there  is  a  good  water-power.  Depend  upon 
it,  he  has  the  eye.  Work  mapped  the  country,  McDonald 
saw  its  possibilities.  He  has  done  wonders  on  the  Eraser 
this  year ;  two  thousand  skins  is  not  so  bad  when  he  has 
Yankees  for  competitors.  Close  on  to  three  hundred 
barrels  of  salmon  he  has  turned  out,  and  has  even  gone 
into  oil  and  blubber,  too.  I  have  sent  for  McDonald  to 
see  what  he  thinks  of  a  fort  on  Puget  Sound." 


VI 

A  YANKEE   SCHOOLMASTER 

AJD  so  it  happened  that  in  the  Fall  of  1832  Archi 
bald  McDonald  took  passage  in.  the  "  Cadboro  " 
for  Fort  Vancouver.  In  the  Doctor's  den,  next 
door  to  the  great  hall,  they  chatted  in  the  November 
firelight.  A  jovial  friend  and  famous  correspondent  was 
Archibald  McDonald, — "Archie,"  his  friends  called  him, 
— -two  and  thirty  letters  often  reached  him  in  a  single 
express,  —  that  semiannual  link  that  kept  the  traders  in 
touch  with  the  world.  Full  of  life,  entertainment,  and 
not  above  a  sly  bit  of  gossip  now  and  then,  cooped  within 
two  hundred  square  feet  of  wall,  this  "  rat  catcher,"  as 
he  dubbed  himself,  "  subject  to  the  ups  and  downs  inci 
dent  to  the  life  of  an  Indian  trader,"  still  knew  all  about 
"  Countess  Selkirk  and  her  handsome  daughters,"  and 
"  my  young  Lord  Selkirk  at  Oxford,  grown  tall,  like 
his  father,  stout,  and  in  good  health."  Dr.  McLoughlin 
enjoyed  these  tidbits  on  occasion,  but  to-night  it  was 
business. 

4 


50  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

'  Yes,  last  year's  laws  give  me  fifteen  years  of  this 
blessed  country !  "  the  Highlander  answered  the  Doctor's 
first  question.  "  Go  who  will,  McDonald  can't  budge, 
so  I  begin  to  make  myself  as  comfortable  and  happy  as 
I  can  where  I  am.  Langley  is  not  so  bad ;  we  have  our 
gardens,  and  milch  cows,  and  pigs  a  fattening;  in  such 
a  wilderness  as  Colville  this  might  be  regarded  as  afflu 
ence.  Even  I  have  planted  apple-trees  from  twigs  I 
took  from  Vancouver.  What  I  regret  most  is  the  con 
dition  of  the  boys,  for  there  is  nothing  like  early  edu 
cation.  However,  I  keep  them  at  it,  mother  and  all. 
My  Chinook  now  reads  pretty  well,  and  has  commenced 
ciphering.  Yes,  four  boys  now,  quite  enough  to  transport 
out  of  this  rascally  country,"  he  added  with  a  laugh. 
"  But  we  are  here,  and  bound  to  make  the  best  of  it." 

"  Bound  to  make  the  best  of  it,"  echoed  the  Doctor, 
"  and  that  is  why  I  have  sent  for  you,  Archie.  Our 
arrangements  with  the  Mexican  Government  for  the 
purchase  of  the  Sacramento  valley  have  failed,  and  so, 
we  must  look  to  the  North." 

"  Aye,  '  when  one  door  steeks  anither  opens,'  Doctor. 
The  North  is  open  to  the  Arctic." 

"  Just  so,  just  so.  Another  fort  beyond  Langley  would 
control  the  coast.  In  addition  to  small  outposts,  we  are 
going  to  build  a  big  establishment  next  the  Alaskan 
border.  Ogden  is  up  there  now;  we  shall  call  it  Fort 
Simpson.  And  I  have  sent  for  you,  Archie,  to  look  out 
a  point  on  Puget  Sound.  With  Fort  Simpson  up  north, 
and  a  good  farm  and  fort  on  the  Sound,  we  ought  to 
be  able  to  drive  these  Yankee  pedlers  off,  and  hold  the 
trade  for  years.  I  shall  look  for  you  back  early  in 
March,  bag  and  baggage,  prepared  to  enter  on  work  at 
the  Sound." 

"  And  how  about  Langley  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  shall  delegate  one  of  the  clerks  to  Langley, 
now  you  have  it  in  good  running  order.  The  new  post 
on  the  Sound  will  practically  supersede  it,  anyway." 

McDonald  smiled  grimly ;  that  was  ever  his  fate,  — 
to  get  a  fort  in  "  good  running  order  "  and  leave  it  to 
another  to  reap  the  fruits  and  emoluments  thereof.  Many 


A   YANKEE    SCHOOLMASTER  51 

had  been  the  haps  and  mishaps  of  Langley  in  those  three 
years  of  McDonald,  —  perils  by  forest  fires  and  Eraser 
floods,  mosquitoes  that  drove  the  Indians  to  the  coast 
and  prevented  the  white  men  from  working  by  day  or 
sleeping  by  night,  caterpillars  that  ate  up  the  fields  of 
corn  and  potatoes  that  had  been  planted,  in  addition  to 
constant  contests  with  Indians,  who  fished  and  feasted 
summers,  and  shivered  cold  and  naked  around  their 
winter  fires,  suspicious  of  the  white  men  at  the  fort. 

"  It  was  ever  war;  from  the  very  earliest  the  natives 
on  this  coast  have  resisted  the  attempts  of  white  men  at 
settlement,  even  for  trade,"  mused  McDonald.  "  The 
sea  feeds  them,  clothes  them,  gives  them  all  they  need. 
Why  should  they  care  for  trade?  And  their  slave 
system,"  -  he  grimaced  with  a  look  of  pain,  —  "  two- 
thirds  of  the  people  are  slaves,  nearly  all  the  women. 
One  of  the  first  uses  of  our  fort  has  been  as  a  place 
of  refuge  for  unfortunate  creatures,  naked  and  starving 
in  the  Winter  cold,  driven  out  to  work.  We  buy  them 
up  for  servants." 

"  The  same  here !  the  same  here ! "  The  Doctor  nodded, 
gazing  into  the  fire.  "  That 's  the  way  we  got  our  last 
Chinooks,  —  bought  'em  up  to  save  'em." 

"  But  their  diabolical  belief  in  an  Evil  Eye  is  appar 
ently  ineradicable,"  continued  the  Doctor,  after  a  pause. 
"You  remember  Keasno?  Last  week  his  son  died;  the 
boy's  mother  had  faithfully  nursed  the  child,  but  what 
do  you  think?  After  the  funeral,,  in  a  frenzy  of  grief, 
the  old  scoundrel  grabbed  a  tomahawk  and  chased  the 
woman  all  over  the  country.  Late  at  night  she  came 
flying  to  the  fort  for  protection;  of  course  we  took  her 
in,  and  spirited  her  down  to  Chinook  to  her  own  people. 
She  was  McDougall's  wife,  you  know,  an  elder  daughter 
of  King  Cumcumly." 

McDonald  knew.  "  An  older  sister  of  the  Princess 
Sunday.  McDougall  abandoned  her  when  he  left  the 
country  and  she  became  the  wife  of  Keasno,  great  chief 
of  the  Multnomahs.  Did  you  reprimand  Keasno?" 

"  How  could  I  ?  All  his  people  are  dead  now,  —  the 
whole  Multnomah  tribe  that  lately  occupied  Wapato 


52  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Island.  And  for  that  matter  most  of  the  Chinooks,  too, 
Cumcumly  with  the  rest.  Only  a  scattering  handful 
remains  of  that  once  powerful  tribe." 

"  Mysterious  illness,"  murmured  McDonald,  "  and  how 
much  we  have  lost  by  it!  Plomondon  reports  no  living 
soul  left  on  the  Cowlitz;  the  living  suffice  not  to  bury 
the  dead,  but  have  fled  in  terror  to  the  seacoast,  aban 
doning  the  dead  and  the  dying  to  birds  and  beasts  of 
prey.  The  teepees  stand,  the  boats  are  drawn  up  on  the 
beach  in  the  sun,  but  none  are  left  to  use  them." 

For  a  time  both  men  were  silent,  pondering  on  the 
strange  disease  that  had  broken  out,  depopulating  the 
Columbia,  —  la  grippe,  influenza,  ague,  or  intermittent 
fever ;  no  one  knew  what  to  call  it.  "  Cole  sick,"  sobbed 
the  savages,  shivering  around  their  smoky  fires.  Super- 
stitiously  terrified,  "  I  shall  die,  I  shall  die!  "  they  moaned, 
and  did  die  without  effort  to  live. 

"  Boston  fever,"  said  the  Cathlamets.  "Boston  Captain 
pour  bad  medicine  into  the  river." 

Indeed,  it  was  around  the  ship  of  the  Boston  Captain 
Dominis  that  the  pestilence  first  appeared,  where  the  mis 
chievous  Indians  persisted  in  pulling  up  the  seine  stakes 
he  had  set  in  the  river  for  salmon.  The  neighboring 
village  perished  and  the  contagion  spread,  from  the  sea 
to  Walla  Walla  and  the  Snake,  and  all  the  way  up  the 
Columbia  to  Colville,  northward  to  Sitka,  and  south  to 
the  bay  of  San  Francisco. 

"  The  number  of  lives  lost  is  incredible,"  whispered  the 
Doctor  in  a  tone  of  awe.  "  Fully  half  the  Indians  of 
Oregon  have  perished.  God  only  knows  where  it  will 
end." 

Dr.  McLoughlin  had  reason  to  sigh.  No  longer  In 
dians  passed  and  repassed  Vancouver  as  was  their  wont. 
Two  hundred  lay  rolled  up  like  cocoons  in  their  dead 
houses  down  by  the  river.  Dr.  McLoughlin's  eye  had 
a  far-away  look,  sitting  there  that  day  with  McDonald, 
and  yet,  even  with  Indians  dead  and  dying  all  around 
him,  he  was  planning  new  conquests  for  the  fur 
trade. 

"  Have  you  heard  of  the  latest  London  sales,  Archie?  " 


A   YANKEE    SCHOOLMASTER  53 

A  natural  tradesman,  all  the  year  McLoughlin  was  listen 
ing  for  news  of  the  London  sales.  "  Feathers,  quills, 
oil,  whalebone,  castoreum,  —  the  whole  went  at  fair 
prices,  to  say  nothing  at  all  of  furs." 

Always  hopeful,  sanguine  by  nature,  the  Doctor  in 
spired  others,  and  saw  unlimited  possibilities  in  "  the 
Oregon  country."  It  could  not  be  denied  that  in  eight 
years  the  Doctor  had  done  wonders. 

"  Dazzling  results!  "  men  said  in  1829,  when  his  ships 
went  home  to  London.  But  McLoughlin  counted  back 
of  that. 

"  Why,  don't  you  remember  that  Ogden's  outfit  in  '25 
cleared  five  thousand  pounds?  But  '27  was  our  banner 
year !  Muskrats !  it  rained  rats,  flooded  rats,  inundated 
rats!  Then  last  Summer,  in  the  face  of  seven  com 
petitors  and  all  this  sickness,  the  coasting  trade  turned 
out  three  thousand  beavers  exclusive  of  other  valuable 
furs.  This  year's  returns  will  not  be  less  than  twenty 
thousand  beavers.  What  will  it  be  with  Fort  Simpson, 
the  Sound,  and  Captain  McNeill  in  our  favor?  Indeed, 
an  agricultural  headquarters  on  the  Sound  might  be  made 
to  pay  in  produce  for  the  right  to  trade  in  Alaska  itself." 

A  thump  at  the  gate  interrupted  the  Doctor's  discourse. 

"Hello!  if  here  isn't  Tom  McKay.  I  thought  you 
well  off  into  the  Snake  country  by  this  time.  Well, 
sirrah?" 

Tom  McKay,  still  in  his  hunting-dress,  led  forward  a 
stranger  into  the  hall  at  Vancouver. 

"  Doctor,  there  are  four  hundred  Americans  in  the 
Snake  country,  and  a  few  of  them  have  come  on  here. 
Permit  me  to  introduce  Captain  Wyeth  and  his  party, 
from  Boston,  who  have  come  down  in  the  boats  with  me 
from  Walla  Walla." 

Captain  Nathaniel  J.  Wyeth,  from  Boston,  in  fact  from 
Cambridge,  under  the  very  shadow  of  Harvard,  laughed 
as  he  glanced  down  at  his  weather-beaten  raiment. 

"  Owing  to  our  hard  life  of  late,  Dr.  McLauchland, 
we  are  a  disreputable  looking  set,  I  fear,  but  hope,  sir, 
that  you  will  excuse  the  awkward  and  suspicious  cir 
cumstances  under  which  we  seem  to  appear.  We  have 


54  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

nothing  at  all  to  do  with  the  people  in  the  Snake  country. 
We  are  a  separate  concern,  direct  from  Boston,  come  out 
to  look  at  Oregon,  and  possibly  to  settle." 

Dr.  McLoughlin,  naturally  hospitable,  could  not  resist 
this  avowal  of  the  open-faced  Bostonian.  "  You  are  quite 
welcome,  sir,  I  assure  you,  to  the  best  Vancouver  affords. 
This  is  Mr.  McDonald  from  Eraser  River,  one  of  our 
Chief  Factors." 

"  And  this,"  in  turn  explained  the  Captain,  "  is  Pro 
fessor  John  Ball,  late  of  Dartmouth  College,  and  Solo 
mon  Smith,  another  Yankee  schoolmaster.  The  rest  are 
below." 

"  Professors  and  schoolmasters  are  what  we  are  want 
ing,"  laughed  McDonald.  Even  he,  in  his  desire  for  a 
teacher  for  Ranald,  overlooked  the  "  neckerchiefs  and 
collars  up  to  their  ears." 

"And,  pray,  how  many  are  there  of  you?" 

"  I  left  Boston  in  March  with  thirty-two  men.  By  the 
time  we  reached  St.  Louis  the  number  had  dropped  to 
twenty- four ;  to-day  I  believe  twelve  of  us  have  weathered 
the  voyage."  And  twelve  sat  down  to  dinner,  "  Hungry 
as  coyotes,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Do  you  imagine  that  more  of  your  countrymen  will 
endeavor  to  make  this  almost  impossible  journey?"  in 
quired  the  Doctor,  himself  pouring  the  wine  and  serving 
the  salmon. 

"  Possibly,  possibly,"  admitted  Wyeth,  picking  the 
bones  from  his  fish.  "  In  fact,  hundreds  of  New 
England  women  are  looking  toward  Oregon." 

"Women?"  the  Chief  Factors  shouted.  "In  an 
Indian  country  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  a  Boston  schoolmaster  has  organized  an  Oregon 
colonization  society  and  publishes  a  paper  he  calls  the 
'  Oregonian.'  They  did  propose  to  start  the  first  of 
January  last,  but  so  many  delayed  beyond  the  time  set 
that  the  scheme  had  to  be  given  up  for  this  year.  And 
some  gentlemen  around  Baltimore,  having  heard  of  the 
mild  climate,  are  planning  to  open  tobacco  plantations 
out  here." 

Again  the  Doctor  and  McDonald   sent  out   rousing 


A   YANKEE    SCHOOLMASTER  55 

laughter.  The  keen-eyed  Bostonian  noted  it,  and  hastened 
to  add,  "  But  I,  myself,  am  inclined  to  consider  these 
schemes  impracticable." 

"  Impracticable?  Most  assuredly,"  affirmed  McDonald, 
whose  Red  River  experience  in  colonization  had  damp 
ened  all  ardor  in  that  direction.  "  Why,  should  they 
leave  St.  Louis  by  the  first  of  June,  encumbered  with 
women  and  children,  they  could  barely  hope  to  reach 
the  Rocky  Mountains  by  the  opening  of  Winter,  and  that 
is  only  half  way.  Clearly  impracticable.  Oregon  never 
can  be  settled  by  land,  that  is  certain,"  added  the  Doctor 
with  an  air  of  finality. 

"  But  trade,  furs,  salmon  ?  "  Wyeth  was  as  ready  as 
the  Doctor  to  listen  to  tales  of  the  London  sales. 

'  Yes,  there  are  furs,  —  some,  at  least,"  assented  the 
Doctor,  slowly.  "  But  the  fact  is,  the  Columbia  is  going 
down  hill  in  that  regard  and  is  likely  to  continue.  And 
the  salmon  business  has  been  tried." 

McDonald,  always  an  enthusiast  on  salmon,  believed 
there  was  money  in  salting  and  shipping  them,  and  it  was 
to  his  importunity  that  at  his  post,  Fort  Langley,  the 
business  of  salting  for  market  had  been  entered  into  by 
the  Company.  But  he  had  no  encouragement  for  the 
Bostonian.  "  Ye-es,  ...  it  m-ight  be  done.  In  fact, 
a  Bostonian  has  already  made  an  attempt." 

"A  Bostonian?" 

"  Yes,  several  of  them ;  but  the  one  I  now  particu 
larly  refer  to  is  Captain  Dominis  pf  the  brig  *  Owyhee/ 
He  came  into  the  river  in  1829,  and  in  two  summers 
took  on  fifty  hogsheads  of  salmon,  which  he  sent  to 
Boston,  and  sold  them  for  ten  cents  a  pound,  so  I  have 
heard." 

"  Bless  me !  The  very  plan  I  have  myself.  My  brig, 
the  '  Sultana/  Captain  Lambert,  on  the  way  to  the 
Columbia  now,  is  bringing  out  my  trading  goods.  I 
must  get  to  the  coast,  and  look  for  her." 

In  an  Indian  canoe,  "  a  kittish  thing,"  the  Captain 
called  it,  five  of  the  Americans  set  out  for  the  coast. 
Captain  Wyeth  stopped  for  a  pipe  at  Astoria,  where 
Birnie  still  watched  the  sea,  while  the  schoolmasters  went 


56  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

over  to  view  the  ruins  of  old  Fort  Clatsop,  where  Lewis 
and  Clark  spent  the  winter  of  1805-6. 

"  Oh,  yes,  Lewis  and  Clark,"  John  Ball  explained  to 
Solomon  Smith.  "  As  a  child  in  New  Hampshire,  I 
heard  Sergeant  Ordway  at  my  father's  house  tell  of  that 
Oregon  adventure.  I  well  remember  how  I  piped,  '  When 
I  am  a  man,  I,  too,  will  visit  Oregon.'  Of  course  they 
all  laughed,  but  here  I  am,  on  the  very  spot  made  famous 
by  their  winter  encampment." 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  very  edge  of  the  ocean,"  urged  Ball. 

"  No,  no,  we  have  travelled  enough,"  objected  his  less 
imaginative  companion.  But  the  Dartmouth  collegian 
hunted  up  a  canoe  and  disappeared. 

That  night  he  wrote  in  his  journal :  "  I  went  alone  to 
look  on  the  broad  Pacific  with  nothing  between  me  and 
Japan.  Standing  on  the  brink,  with  the  waves  washing 
my  feet,  was  the  happiest  hour  of  my  long  journey. 
There  I  watched  until  the  sun  sank  beneath  the  water, 
then  by  the  light  of  the  moon  I  returned  to  camp  feeling 
I  had  not  crossed  the  continent  in  vain." 

When  John  Ball  returned  from  the  coast  Dr. 
McLoughlin  was  skirmishing  everywhere  for  scholars. 
"  I  will  provide  you  books  and  pens,"  he  was  saying  to 
Louis  Labonte,  holding  the  lad  by  the  hand.  "You  can 
stay  right  here  at  the  fort  " ;  and  his  father,  an  old  voy- 
ageur  of  Astor's  day,  proudly  left  Louis  with  the  Doctor. 
David,  the  Doctor's  son  and  heir,  and  Billy  McKay,  the 
son  of  the  hunter,  and  Dominick  Pambrun,  from  Walla 
Walla,  were  there,  and  Archibald  McDonald  had  gone  to 
Langley  to  bring  down  Ranald. 

"  In  one  respect  I  regret  leaving  Fort  Langley," 
McDonald  declared  to  the  Doctor  on  starting.  "  It  is 
a  snug,  comfortable  place,  but  then  —  it  is  high  time  for 
me  to  get  my  little  boys  in  school,  God  bless  'em !  I 
shall  be  back  directly."' 

Coasting  along  Puget  Sound,  they  were  coming,  as 
fast  as  six  men  and  a  bateau  could  bring  them,  Ranald 
and  his  brothers,  eager  for  school.  Jane  was  there,  and 
the  babies,  all  moving  down  to  Vancouver.  Near  the 
southern  end  of  the  Sound,  where  it  is  nearest  the 


KAMIAKIN    VISITS   VANCOUVER         57 

Columbia,  Chief  Factor  McDonald  one  night  tied  up  to 
a  tree. 

"  Come,  Ranald,  let  us  inspect  the  country,  for  I  must 
build  a  fort  here."  Taking  the  lad  of  eight  by  one 
hand,  and  his  younger  brother  by  the  other,  Archibald 
McDonald  strode  over  the  parklike  Nisqually  Prairie. 
Grasses  were  green ;  multitudinous  mountain  streams  ran 
down  through  meadows  ungrazed  by  stock,  reflecting  in 
their  limpid  wanderings  timber  for  aye  uncut,  fish 
uncaught,  deer  unlimited. 

"  Just  the  country  for  cattle  and  sheep,"  said  McDonald 
to  his  little  boys.  "  See  that  cataract?  Just  the  spot  for 
a  mill." 

So,  before  Seattle  or  Tacoma  were  dreamed  of,  in  the 
lone  woods  of  Puget  Sound,  Ranald  McDonald  and  his 
father  walked  in  that  world  primeval.  In  a  few  days 
the  boy  reached  Vancouver,  and  entered  the  first  school 
of  English  on  the  Pacific  Coast.  All  dialects  were  there, 
—  Cree,  Klikitat,  Nez  Perce,  Chinook,  —  and  every  day 
Dr.  McLoughlin  came  in  to  encourage. 

'  Yes,    yes,    Mr.    Ball,    at    least    you  -  will    have   the 
reputation  of  having  taught  the  first  school  in  Oregon." 

Captain  Wyeth  tarried  a  little  on  his  return  to  Van 
couver  :  "  I  learn  that  my  brig,  the  '  Sultana/  had  been 
wrecked  on  a  reef  of  the  South  Sea  Islands.  As  soon  as 
the  snow  on  the  mountains  permits  I  must  start  back 
to  Boston  for  a  second  outfit." 


VII 
KAMIAKIN   VISITS  VANCOUVER 

OW,  children,  who  had  the  best  lessons?  " 

One  bright  May  morning  Dr.  McLoughlin 
came  into  the  schoolroom  with  a  mysterious 
tin  box  in  his  hand,  —  sure  sign  of  some  sort  of  sweet 
meat.  And  sweetmeats  were  rare  at  Vancouver.  Great 


58  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

delicacies  were  Hudson  Bay  prunes,  and  gingerbread 
rocks,  hard  as  adamant.  But  a  tin  box  — 

"  Who  recited  best,  Mr.  Ball?  "  Ranald  tried  to  hide 
the  leather  medal  on  his  breast;  he  would  forget  and 
speak  Chinook,  when  English  was  the  law  of  the  school. 
Louis  Labonte,  too,  had  the  medal  of  disgrace,  —  "Caught 
speaking  French,  sir." 

"And  David?" 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  say  that  David  questions  my 
authority  to  compel  the  school  to  speak  English." 

David's  eye  flashed.  David  was  "  wild,  wild,  wild," 
said  the  other  boys,  and  they  loved  him  for  it.  In  fact, 
he  made  school-teaching  a  hard  row  for  Professor  Ball 
to  hoe. 

"David!"  the  Doctor  thundered;  he  knew  his  son 
was  a  ringleader  of  mischief,  with  no  love  for  learning. 
Off  came  the  old  man's  moccasin,  and  with  David  across 
his  knee  the  son  and  heir  of  the  great  Chief  Factor  was 
suddenly  and  soundly  spanked. 

But  that  tin  box  — 

Some  of  them  remembered  rare  glimpses  of  loaf-sugar 
from  England,  so  hard  that  it  had  to  be  cut  with  an 
axe,  but  that  came  always  in  purple  paper,  fifteen  inches 
to  two  feet  high,  —  so  that  could  not  be  in  the  little  tin 
box.  Some  compared  it  with  the  bunch  of  raisins  and 
braided  doughnuts  that  came  for  Christmas,  —  no,  they 
could  not  get  into  that  small  tin  box.  Dominick  Pambrun 
recollected  sweet  pemmican  back  on  the  Saskatchewan, 
with  berries  and  raisins  in  it,  —  the  mincemeat  of  the 
Indian,  —  but  that  was  kept  in  rawhide  sacks.  Billy 
McKay  thought  of  sorrel  pies,  and  salal  pies,  and  even 
Oregon  tea,  that  they  went  into  the  woods  to  gather  for 
winter,  and  drank  sweetened  with  black-strap  molasses 
brought  from  Honolulu.  But  no,  —  none  of  these  could 
have  been  encased  in  that  small  tin  box. 

"  Come,  now,  Mr.  Ball,  who  has  been  the  best  scholar  ? 
Who  has  read  his  grammar  through,  whose  copy-book 
has  not  a  blot,  who  counts  and  adds  and  multiplies  the 
quickest  ? "  And  John  Ball  was  obliged  to  confess, 
"  Little  Benjamin  Harrison." 


KAMIAKIN   VISITS   VANCOUVER         59 

"Benjamin  Harrison!"  The  Doctor  himself  was 
amazed,  but  the  bright  eyes  of  little  Benjamin,  the  In 
dian  slave  boy,  danced  with  delight  as  the  kind-hearted 
old  Doctor  handed  him  the  box,  full  of  barley-sugar 
candy  from  London.  Little  Benjamin,  the  despised  slave 
of  the  haughty  Multnomahs,  had  been  refused  the  river 
douse  in  his  fever,  and  flung  out  to  die,  neglected  and 
alone,  had  been  picked  up,  the  only  surviving  soul  out 
of  three  villages  on  Wapato  Island  in  '31.  And  Dr. 
McLoughlin  adopted  him. 

Outside  the  door,  with  a  bundle  under  his  robe,  stood 
Kamiakin,  Chief  of  the  fourteen  allied  tribes  of  the 
Yakima  Nation,  waiting  for  his  little  friends.  Every 
year  Kamiakin  came  down  to  Vancouver  with  a  bundle 
of  bows  and  arrows  for  Ranald,  the  son  of  the 
Black-headed  Eagle,  as  the  Indians  called  Archibald 
McDonald.  Wild,  wild,  wild,  too,  was  Kamiakin,  and 
distrustful  of  the  whites,  but  every  Spring  he  came  down 
with  gifts  for  Ranald.  Kamiakin,  stout  and  of  good, 
open  countenance,  handed  over  the  bows  and  arrows, 
and  sat  down  with  the  boys  in  the  inner  court,  cutting 
and  carving  at  the  Indian  arrow-weed,  tassel-wood,  spirea, 
that  were  blossoming  now  around  Vancouver.  Every 
boy  there  had  Indian  blood  in  his  veins,  and  under 
stood  Kamiakin,  but  as  Ranald,  with  irradiating  eyes, 
talked  with  the  old  chief,  little  each  guessed  their  dif 
ferent  destinies,  —  one  to  battle  against  the  westward 
march  of  nations,  the  other  to  light  a  torch  to  lead 
them  on. 

"Klaxta  6-coke?"  ("Who  is  that?")  questioned 
Kamiakin.  Before  any  other  his  quick  eye  had  perceived 
a  stranger  at  the  gate. 

In  a  moment  McLoughlin  had  the  stranger  by  the 
hand,  —  Dr.  Tolmie,  a  youthful  physician,  just  from 
London  on  the  "  Ganymede." 

And  now  the  holiday !  "  A  ship,  a  ship  in  the  harbor !  " 
Even  the  boys  must  fall  to  and  sweep  walks,  and  trundle 
up  merchandise,  and  help  in  every  way  that  small  boys 
could.  Kamiakin  stood  back,  forgotten  by  all  save 
Ranald,  while  pennons  waved  and  cannon  boomed,. and 


60  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

the  sailors  dressed  in  their  best  marched  up  the  new- 
swept  walk  to  dinner. 

"  Yes,  our  little  '  Cadboro  '  will  sail  around  into  the 
Sound  and  leave  some  of  this  merchandise  for  a  new  fort 
we  are  building  there,"  McLoughlin  was  saying  to  the 
Captain.  "  McDonald  will  be  there  with  a  gang  of 
builders." 


VIII 
THE   FIRST  FORT  ON   PUGET   SOUND 

THE  shores  of  the  River  Cowlitz  were  silent  and 
solitary,  as  Archibald  McDonald  and  Dr.  Tolmie 
and  their  men  pushed  up  the  powerful  current 
on  their  way  to  the  -Sound.  The  fever  had  done  its 
worst,  and  only  a  feeble  frightened  few  remained  of  the 
once  numerous  tribe  of  the  Cowlitz.  Whidby  Island  had 
been  discussed  in  the  hall  at  Vancouver,  but  "  No,"  said 
Douglas,  "  there  is  a  scarcity  of  prairie  ground.  The 
island  is  a  poor  place  for  cattle  and  flocks  of  sheep.  We 
need  room."  And  room  there  was  near  the  head  of  Puget 
Sound  on  the  line  of  direct  travel  between  Vancouver  and 
Fort  Langley,  where  the  need  of  a  post  had  long  been 
felt.  Here  it  was  that  boats  and  horses  were  exchanged, 
and  supplies  of  sheep  and  cattle  were  in  demand  for  a 
trade  that  was  springing  up  with  the  Russians  at  Sitka. 

It  was  on  Thursday,  May  30,  1833,  that  the  two 
arrived  with  four  men,  four  oxen,  and  four  horses, 
after  a  journey  of  fourteen  days  from  the  Columbia, 
expecting  to  find  the  ship  that  had  sailed  with  provi 
sions,  trading  goods,  and  seed  for  Nisqually  Bay.  The 
Chief  Factor  and  the  young  Doctor  rode  around  on 
horseback,  looking  at  the  country.  Not  many  years  in 
the  past  Archibald  McDonald  had  led  the  first  settlers  to 
Red.  River,  awakened  Parliament  to  the  battle  of  the 


FIRST    FORT    ON    PUGET    SOUND        61 

traders,  had  been  sent  as  an  envoy  to  take  over  the  Colum 
bia  for  the  Hudson  Bay  Company ;  as  a  herald  of  empire 
he  had  explored  the  routes  of  future  Canadian  railways, 
had  threaded  three  great  passes  of  the  Rockies,  shot 
down  the  gorges,  and  ruled  the  first  sea  fort  on  the 
Fraser ;  and  now,  to-day,  yEneas  of  the  Western  Mediter 
ranean,  he  led  the  vanguard  of  nations  to  Puget  Sound. 

In  a  green  and  fertile  valley  dwelt  the  Nisqually  In 
dians,  sheltered  in  winter  by  their  large  board,  lodges 
and  by  contiguous  forests,  but  now,  with  the  spring, 
the  tribe  had  scattered,  to  the  hunting,  the  fishing,  and  the 
camas  grounds.  A  few  only  remained,  —  old  men,  the 
boy  Leschi,  an  aristocratic  Flathead  with  clear  dark  eyes, 
straight  black  hair,  Roman  nose,  firm-set  lips  and  intelli 
gent  expression,  and  Quiemuth,  his  brother,  children  of 
Yanatco,  the  sorcerer,  by  a  Yakima  mother. 

McDonald  pantomimed  toward  the  swift-running  river 
that  barred  his  path. 

"  Squally,"  grunted  the  boys.  Squally  it  was  with  the 
snows  of  Rainier  melting  and  tumbling  and  foaming 
down  through  deep  mountain  gorges  and  narrow  passes 
that  in  Summer  were  shallow  rivulets  easily  forded. 
Here  and  there  an  Indian  bridge,  an  immense  spruce-tree 
across  a  chasm,  afforded  footing  above  the  torrent. 

"Ah!  zvah !  "  Yanatco  welcomed  the  idea  of  trade,  — 
blankets  meant  wealth.  Rarely  a  knife  in  a  greasy  seal 
skin  sheath  was  to  be  found  among  the  whole  Nisqually 
nation,  more  frequently  a  dagger  of,  red  copper  bartered 
from  the  North. 

"  This  is  the  spot,  Plomondon.  Now  let  us  get  at  the 
fort,"  the  Chief  Factor  that  night  advised  his  chief 
overseer. 

Simon  Plomondon  could  neither  read  nor  write;  he 
could  not  even  keep  the  run  of  time,  nor  tell  the  year  in 
which  he  did  various  things,  but  he  was  a  capable  axe 
man,  and  knew  exactly  how  to  erect  the  wooden  forts 
of  the  fur  traders ;  and  Jean  Baptiste  Charlefoux,  the 
carpenter,  was  an  indispensable  close  second  in  pride  of 
things  accomplished.  With  a  few  untrained  Kanakas, 
and  half  a  dozen  Indians,  in  a  few  days  the  logs  were 


62  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

squared,  and  with  oak  pins  for  nails,  the  first  habitation 
for  whites  on  Puget  Sound  was  ready  for  the  roof  of 
cedar  bark.  Before  the  wide-mouthed  fireplace  had  yet 
known  a  flame,  or  the  heavy  iron  keys  had  been  turned 
in  the  ponderous  locks,  dusky  natives  were  trooping  in 
from  the  neighboring  islands  and  coves  and  fiords  of 
Puget  Sound. 

"  This  trading  fort  is  for  your  accommodation  en 
tirely,"  explained  McDonald.  "  If  you  do  not  behave  well 
it  will  be  removed." 

The  red  men  camped,  listened,  and  watched  the 
Canadians  rolling  up  logs  for  bastions,  like  dovecots  at 
the  corners,  watched  them  digging  trenches  for  the  pali 
sades,  watched  them  building  marvellous  stairs  to  walk 
into  the  second  story,  and  with  hands  over  their  mouths 
in  amazement  heard  the  big  gate  shut  and  click  its  lock,  — 
the  white  men  were  there  entrenched,  fortified  in  their 
very  midst,  and  they,  the  kings  of  that  country,  were 
shut  out. 

"  Still,  we  may  peer  through  the  pickets,"  thought 
the  Indians.  But  behold,  that  big  giant  of  a  French 
Canadian  brought  enormous  loads  of  saplings,  and  be 
tween  each  picket  a  pole  was  set,  until  from  end  to  end 
even  the  cracks  of  the  palisades  were  closed.  Mystery 
had  entered  the  land  of  the  Nisquallies. 

And  not  alone  the  Nisquallies  sat  down  to  watch  the 
white  men.  Out  of  their  narrow,  footworn,  and  hardened 
forest  trails  came  the  Puyallups,  from  their  low,  square, 
one-storied  houses  of  rough-hewn  cedar  and  spruce 
planks,  the  dark  Snoqualmies,  and  the  lordly  Klikitats, 
flaunting  their  feathers  on  their  handsome  horses;  and 
up  from  the  sea-way  came  the  Chehalis,  the  Duwamish 
with  chief  Seattle,  the  Clallams,  and  even  Makahs  from 
Cape  Flattery,  so  fast  and  far  had  the  wonder  flown.  In 
a  month  the  spot  was  populous,  the  Indian  hall  was  done, 
and  while  the  Canadians  hewed  and  hacked  and  ham 
mered  with  their  only  tools,  an  axe,  a  broadaxe,  and 
an  auger,  McDonald  talked  and  traded,  and  Dr. 
Tolmie  philosophically  studied  the  peculiarities  of  Indian 
character. 


FIRST   FORT    ON    PUGET    SOUND        63 

Were  there  any  attempts  at  theft,  the  lads  Leschi  and 
Quiemuth  were  at  hand,  valuable  allies  and  assistants 
to  report  and  restore;  Leschi,  radiant  in  a  suit  of  white 
boy's  clothes,  discarded  his  blanket.  On  a  June  Sunday 
there  was  a  good  deal  of  stir  about  the  new  fort,  canoes 
arriving  by  sea  and  horsemen  by  land,  and  a  ship  riding 
at  anchor  in  Nisqually  roads. 

"  What  for  flag  out  to-day?  "  Leschi  beckoned  to  Dr. 
Tolmie. 

[<  This  is  Sunday.  There  will  be  no  work.'*  The 
ploughmen  in  the  furrows  of  Nisqually  Plain  had  tied 
out  their  horses. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  persisted  the  Indian. 

"  It  is  the  day  on  which  we  worship  God." 

"  How  worship  God  ?  " 

"  By  keeping  your  hand  from  killing  and  stealing. 
Love  one  another,  and  pray  only  to  the  Master  of  Life, 
the  Great  Chief."  Leschi  went  away  and  told  the 
Indians,  and  so  it  came  about  that  every  Sunday  the 
Indians  ceased  their  work,  and  ended  the  day  in  a 
sacred  dance,  their  method  of  worshipping  the  Great 
Spirit.  Tolmie  was  impressed,  insomuch  that  he  almost 
decided  to  give  up  fur  trading  and  turn  missionary. 

"What  was  that  noise  I  heard  last  night?"  he  in 
quired  of  Plomondon,  his  interpreter. 

"  Medicine  man  trying  to  sing  my  wife  to  death. 
She  bound  to  have  heem.  Weel  not  let  me  stop  it." 

In  the  night  the  people  of  the  fort  heard  Plomondon 
and  his  Indian  wife  scolding,  in  French  and  Chinook. 
Then  the  song  went  on.  Madame  Plomodon,  ill  with  a 
fever,  preferred  the  manners  and  medicine  of  her  own 
people. 

In  January  the  Indians  brought  news  of  a  wreck  at 
Cape  Flattery. 


64  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 


IX 

THE  WOES   OF  JOHN  WORK 

TWO  hundred  horses,  fur  laden,  winding  their  way 
through  the  rough  mountain  passes  of  Southern 
Oregon,  along  ledges  barely  wide  enough  to  give 
footway,  had  been  the  usual  return  of  the  Spanish  brigade ; 
then,  down  the  Willamette  and  across  the  Columbia,  the 
tranquil  gliding  canoe,  the  regular  splashless  dip,  dip, 
of  the  paddles  and  the  wild  chant  of  the  crew  welcomed 
them  home  to  Vancouver.  But  this  year  Dr.  McLoughlin 
was  uneasy. 

"  I  wonder  what  keeps  Mr.  Work.  He  should  have 
been  in  six  weeks  ago.  Why,  by  this  time  a  new  brigade 
is  usually  starting  out  to  the  South.  Something  certainly 
has  happened,  for  if  ever  there  was  a  faithful  man  that 
was  John  Work.  I  hope  in  the  name  of  God  he  has  n't 
fallen  foul  of  those  Umpquas.  Might  be  just  his  bad 
luck  after  last  year  with  the  Blackfeet." 

The  Doctor  stamped  impatiently  up  and  down  .in  front 
of  Fort  Vancouver,  swinging  up  his  glass  now  and  then, 
sweeping  the  horizon.  So  great  within  a  few  days  had 
become  his  anxiety  that  runners  had  been  despatched 
up  the  valley,  but  no  news  came  out  of  the  silence.  But 
at  this  moment  his  glass  fell,  —  the  Chief  Factor  had 
caught  sight  of  a  distant  boat-crew  on  the  Columbia. 
Nearer  it  came,  and  nearer,  until  Pierre  Legacie  leaped 
out  on  the  sand  and  the  Doctor  caught  him  by  the  wrist. 

"  Where  in  God's  name  is  Mr.  Work  ?  Tell  me,  is  he 
dead?" 

"  Not  yet,  but  he  may  be  soon.  He  has  reached 
Champoeg  and  can  get  no  farther.  Everybody  sick  with 
the  terrible  fever." 

In  half  an  hour  the  messenger  was  on  his  way  back, 
with  phials  of  quinine  and  other  Vancouver  remedies  for 


THE    WOES    OE    JOHN    WORK  65 

the  destroying-  pestilence  that  .had  wrought  such  havoc 
among  the  fur  traders.  At  Champoeg,  a  French-Indian 
settlement  up  the  Willamette,  the  brigade  had  fallen  help 
less,  only  too  grateful  for  the  kind  attention  of  Joseph 
Gervais,  fitienne  Lucier,  Louis  Labonte,  and  other  rem 
nants  of  Astor's  party,  who  had  settled  with  their  Indian 
wives  in  the  green  valley  of  Oregon. 

It  was  fully  December  before  John  Work's  exhausted 
vanguard  sighted  the  watch-tower  of  Fort  Vancouver, 
and  emitted  a  feeble  cheer  at  sight  of  the  dear  old  flag 
of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company.  Dr.  McLoughlin  hastened 
to  greet  the  train  that  sixteen  months  before  had  set  out 
in  such  fine  feather,  but  the  heads,  fierce,  fiery,  and  proud, 
were  drooping  now,  the  eyes  were  sunken,  and  only 
tears  gushed  when  they  heard  the  bells  of  Vancouver. 
Reduced  to  a  skeleton,  the  Chief  Trader  himself  stepped 
out  of  his  boat  and  fell  exhausted  into  the  arms  of  Dr. 
McLoughlin. 

"  Lord  bless  us,  what  a  pitiful  plight !  Here,  men, 
help  the  sick  people  up." 

On  improvised  stretchers,  and  by  all  sorts  of  ex 
pedients,  the  stricken  train  was  assisted  to  the  fort. 
That  they  had  been  able  to  return  at  all  seemed  a 
miracle.  Gradually  the  whole  story  came  to  light,  —  a 
never-to-be-forgotten  incident  in  the  history  of  Pacific 
fur  trading.  Work's  peregrinations  had  covered  a  vast 
extent  of  territory,  —  up  the  charming  Willamette  into 
its  very  head  sources  where  no  whife  man  yet  had  been, 
among  the  rugged  Callapooias,  and  over  mountains  to 
Umpqua-old-fort,  where  a  solitary  Frenchman  dealt  in 
furs,  then  westward  around  Klamath  and  Pyramid 
Lakes,  over  the  Siskiyous  and  down  the  Sacramento, 
camping  where  gold  was  yet  to  be  discovered  long 
before  gold  was  dreamed  of,  and  on  to  San  Francisco 
Bay. 

Even  the  sick  man's  face  lighted  as  he  reported  "  beaver 
greatly  abounding  around  San  Francisco  Bay."  But 
everywhere  along  the  Sacramento  had  been  signs  of  the 
pestilential  fever,  whole  camps  lay  without  a  living  soul, 
the  Indians  in  their  lodges  as  if  fallen  asleep,  some  on 

5 


66  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

the  trails  leading  to  the  river,   and  some  in  the  river. 
Only  the  white  men  seemed  exempt. 

"  While  we  were  returning  home,"  whispered  the 
weary  trader,  "  we  passed  native  villages  where  all  the 
people  were  dead,  and  some  of  my  men  foolishly  pillaged 
a  deserted  lodge  of  certain  articles  that  pleased  their 
fancy.  The  fever  soon  broke  out  in  our  camp,  and 
several  of  our  ablest  men  died." 

At  this  point  others  took  up  the  story  of  how,  harassed 
by  savages,  they  had  struggled  on  and  on,  almost  with 
out  hope.  At  last  the  Chief  Trader  himself  had  been 
stricken,  and,  with  hostile  Indians  in  ambush  all  around 
them,  was  obliged  to  dismount  and  fall  upon  the  ground. 

"  Ah,  Doctor,"  wailed  the  Chief  Trader,  grasping  his 
hand  as  he  told  the  tale,  "  the  clangers  among  the  Black- 
feet  are  bad  enough,  God  knows,  but  they,  and  all  other 
troubles,  are  not  to  be  compared  with  the  calamity  of  a 
whole  party  being  thus  attacked  in  a  wilderness  far  from 
any  aid  or  means  of  procuring  remedies.  God  keep  me 
from  ever  experiencing  the  like  again." 

And,  indeed,  the  event  produced  a  most  profound  im 
pression  upon  all  the  traders  wherever  they  heard  of  it. 
"  When  sickness  overtakes  him,"  said  McDonald,  "  few 
mortals  present  a  more  dismal  and  forlorn  situation  than 
an  Indian  trader  in  a  manner  abandoned  by  the  world 
and  himself." 

It  seemed  as  if  every  misfortune  that  had  ever  befallen 
them  leaped  into  sudden  remembrance. 

"  Man's  life  on  the  Columbia  has  become  a  mere  lot 
tery,"  said  one.  "  Even  every  rock  has  its  tradition  of 
disaster." 

"  And  an  Indian  bullet  will  put  an  end  to  a  man's  life 
as  quickly  as  any  other,"  added  another. 

"Tut!  tut!  tut!"  interrupted  the  ever  hopeful  Mc- 
Loughlin.  "  Best  returns  this  year  ever  known  on  the 
Columbia;  and  consider,  too,  what  the  great  business 
we  have  here  would  mean  in  the  small  corners  of  the 
world  we  came  from." 

This  cheerful  view  encouraged  many,  insomuch  that 
Chief  Trader  Work  felt  himself  suddenly  rallying  under 


VISITORS    FROM    JAPAN  67 

the  good  care  and  patient  nursing  of  Fort  Vancouver. 
And  the  little  girls,  Jane  and  Sarah,  recovered  from  their 
adventure,  soon  entered  the  schoolroom  with  the  boys. 
John  Ball  was  gone,  to  become  the  founder  of  Grand 
Rapids,  Michigan,  —  and  Solomon  Smith,  the  second 
schoolmaster  on  the  Pacific,  now  taught  the  children  at 
Fort  Vancouver. 


X 

VISITORS   FROM   JAPAN 

"Ik   y|"R.   WORK,   what!    what  can  this  mean,   Mr. 

Y/l  Work?"  When  excited,  Dr.  McLoughlin  often 
•J-  »  JL  stuttered  and  repeated  himself.  "  I  am  inclined 
to  think  it  represents  a  shipwreck." 

A  crew  of  coast  Indians  had  come  up  to  Vancouver 
with  specimens  of  fine  blue  Satsuma  ware,  —  tiny  tea 
cups,  flowerpots,  and  pitchers,  —  and  handed  to  Dr. 
McLoughlin  a  mysterious  piece  of  Japanese  rice  paper. 
Mr.  Work,  now  able  to  walk  out  after  his  long  illness, 
was  sunning  himself  near  the  door.  Both  men  scanned 
the  message  from  another  world.  "  Does  n't  this  mean 
a  disabled  junk, — yes,  sir,  a  junk  on  the  rocks  and 
Indians  engaged  in  plundering?"  » 

"  And  three  shipwrecked  persons  tied  up  to  trees," 
added  Mr.  Work,  pointing  to  significant  pictorial  de 
lineations  in  the  upper  corner  of  the  silky  rice  paper. 
"  In  Oriental  costume,  too." 

"  Where  did  you  get  these  things?  "  Returning  to  the 
Indians,  Dr.  McLoughlin  inspected  the  eggshell  bits  of 
porcelain  through  his  glasses.  Still  more  fragments  of 
wonderful  vases,  pitchers,  and  plates,  some  yet  unbroken, 
lay  in  their  canoes.  "Where,  where  from,  I  say?" 

The  bow-legged  Chinooks  waved  their  arms  toward 
the  sea,  and  chattered  and  jabbered  in  the  jargon  of 
their  race. 


68  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"Where  is  Tom  McKay?  He  is  the  man  for  such 
an  emergency.  He  knows  Chinook  like  a  native.  And 
where  is  little  Ranald  McDonald?" 

Within  a  few  hours  Tom  McKay,  with  thirty  men, 
set  out  overland  in  the  direction  of  Cape  Flattery,  as 
indicated  by  the  Indians,  to  answer  the  unmistakable 
message  of  shipwreck.  But  in  a  week  or  two  he  re 
turned,  discouraged  by  the  impenetrable  forests  and  pre 
cipitous  mountains  that  barred  his  way.  Never  yet  had 
any  white  man  threaded  that  Olympic  wilderness. 

"  Ah,  here,  fortunately,  is  Captain  McNeill  with  the 
1  Llama/  just  taking  cattle  to  Nisqually."  Dr.  Mc- 
Loughlin  caught  sight  of  the  brig,  with  horned  heads 
peering  over  the  taffrail.  "  Here,  Captain,  we  have  news 
of  a  shipwreck  somewhere  on  this  rock-bound  coast.  You 
had  better  constitute  yourself  a  search  party,  and  keep 
an  eye  out  as  you  go.  Somebody  may  be  left  alive  and 
need  help." 

Willingly  Captain  McNeill  undertook  the  mission  of 
mercy,  and  soon,  beyond  Gray's  Harbor,  he  found  the 
sea  dotted  with  crockery  crates  floating  down  the  coast. 
Farther  up,  a  junk  lay  on  the  rocks  of  Cape  Flattery. 
With  rings  in  their  noses  and  long  hair  in  knots  under 
their  bowl-like  plaited  hats,  the  Chinese-featured  Makahs 
were  in  the  midst  of  their  Spring  fishing.  None  knew 
better  than  they  where  the  black  cod  slept;  theirs  were 
the  secret  herring  banks,  and  the  halibut  haunts,  and  the 
homes  and  seasons  of  salmon  and  sea-trout,  as  far  as 
Sitka.  Far  over  the  waves  rang  the  whaler's  call, 
"  Latah !  "  Down  went  the  harpoon  piercing  the  levia 
than;  away  darted  the  canoes  while  the  wounded  whale 
beat  the  water  into  foam.  Slow,  slower  lashed  the 
mighty  fin,  until  the  dead  carcass  was  towed  ashore. 
Scanning  the  "Llama,"  the  Mongolian-eyed  chiefs  waved 
their  feather  fans  like  mandarins,  — "  Yes,  we  have 
captives  come  up  out  of  the  sea." 

It  was  some  time  in  June  when  the  master  at  Fort 
Nisqually  heard  a  cannon  shot  down  the  Sound.  Setting 
out  in  a  canoe,  soon  after  he  boarded  the  "  Llama  "  and 
took  tea  with  Captain  McNeill. 


VISITORS    FROM    JAPAN  69 

"  See  yonder  unfortunate  castaways  ?  "  the  Captain 
pointed  out  two  emaciated  Japanese  in  the  forecastle 
bunk.  "  Dr.  McLoughlin  received  word  at  Vancouver, 
and  sent  me  to  rescue  them.  I  found  their  junk  gone 
ashore  at  the  Ozette  village,  where  these  two  men  lay 
enslaved.  There  is  one  more ;  they  had  taken  him  inland, 
but  promised  to  get  the  poor  fellow  to  the  coast  by  the 
time  I  return." 

The  first  cattle  to  Puget  Sound  the  "Llama"  had 
brought,  —  wild  and  wicked,  horning  everything  within 
reach,  three  cows  and  their  calves  that  McNeill  had  lately 
procured  of  the  California  Spaniards.  From  every  direc 
tion  Indians  came  pouring  in  to  view  the  wonderful  ani 
mals,  the  strangest  that  had  ever  come  to  those  inland 
waters.  But  none  noted  the  sick  Japanese  out  in  the 
ship. 

After  a  quick  run  to  Langley-on-the-Fraser,  Captain 
McNeill  returned  to  Cape  Flattery,  ransomed  the  re 
maining  Japanese,  a  boy  of  fifteen,  and  hurried  around 
to  Vancouver.  All  was  sympathy  and  excitement  as  the 
exhausted  castaways  were  brought  up  to  the  fort.  A 
hospital  had  been  erected  for  the  many  sick  people  of 
recent  weeks,  and  here  the  stranded  strangers  were  placed 
in  beds  and  given  the  kindest  attention.  Dr.  McLoughlin 
himself  prescribed  medicine  and  bouillon  and  the  finest 
fruit  from  the  gardens  of  Vancouver,  and  in  a  short  time 
the  lively  little  brown  men  began  to  recover. 

"  Boys/'  began  the  Doctor  one  morning  in  his  brusque 
\vay,  "  all  hands  here  at  the  fort  are  so  busy  that  I  am 
going  to  detail  you — Ranald  McDonald  and  Billy  McKay 
—  to  look  after  those  Japanese  at  the  hospital.  You  are 
to  wait  upon  them,  bring  them  food,  and  act  as  a  sort 
of  bodyguard  until  they  get  well." 

Never  more  delighted  lads  undertook  a  task,  running 
in  and  out  in  their  soft  moccasins  all  day  long,  eager  to 
anticipate  every  wish  and  fulfil  every  desire.  With  the 
quick  ears  of  youth  some  Japanese  words  were  speedily 
treasured,  and  the  strangers  themselves  soon  showed  an 
equal  facility  in  Chinook,  so  that  in  a  few  weeks  more 
details  of  their  shipwreck  came  to  light. 


70  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  This  is  Ewa  and  his  son,  Oto,  and  I  am  Kioko,  the 
mate  of  the  junk,"  was  the  translated  story.  "  We  were 
merchants,  coasting  with  many  others  from  a  southern 
port  of  Japan  northward,  laden  with  cotton  cloth,  pot 
tery,  and  rice,  when  a  terrible  typhoon  struck  us  amid 
ships  and  we  lost  our  rudder.  Unable  to  guide  our 
course,  wre  were  carried  out  to  sea  and  swept  helplessly 
toward  your  coast.  Out  of  a  crew  of  seventeen  we 
alone  survive." 

This  account  was  confirmed  by  Captain  McNeill : 
"  Yes,  a  merchant  junk,  the  Indians  were  looting  her. 
They  had  broken  up  most  of  the  fine  blue  ware,  emptied 
the  rice  into  the  ocean,  and  torn  up  the  blue  denim  cloth. 
Evidently  the  wreck  had  been  drifting  for  a  long  time, 
most  of  the  crew  had  perished  of  starvation  and  disease; 
in  fact,  I  found  .several  dead  bodies  headed  up  in  firkins, 
Japanese  fashion,  ready  for  burial.  The  Makahs  had 
killed  some  at  the  Ozette  village,  and  enslaved  these  two. 
The  boy  they  were  hurrying  away  into  the  interior  for 
sale  when  I  persuaded  them  to  bring  him  back.  His 
activity  and  good  humor  made  a  great  impression  on 
the  Indians." 

Young  Oto,  a  lad  of  fifteen,  caught  the  drift  of  talk, 
assisting  now  and  then.  Active,  vigorous,  bright,  quickly 
he  fraternized  with  his  young  Chinook  friends,  almost 
surpassing  them  in  the  use  of  the  jargon.  This  whole 
interesting  occurrence  was  a  source  of  much  speculation 
at  Fort  Vancouver,  and  for  a  long  time  the  Indians  con 
tinued  to  bring  portions  of  the  porcelain  plunder  that 
was  scattered  on  the  rocks.  Eagerly,  in  the  Summer 
evenings,  Ranald  McDonald  listened  to  the  theories  of 
his  elders  as  to  other  wrecks,  reported  from  time  to  time. 
The  Kanakas  of  the  kitchen,  too,  inflamed  his  imagina 
tion  with  tales  of  junks  on  the  shores  of  Hawaii.  Soon 
after,  Captain  McNeill  returned  from  the  Islands  with 
a  report  of  eighteen  more  rescued  Japanese  at  Honolulu, 
relics  of  the  same  terrific  wave-sweep  that  had  sent  these 
three  across  the  ocean  to  Oregon.  Some  had  drifted 
eighteen  months  before  touching  any  shore. 

"  We  must  restore  these  people  to  their  own  country," 


VISITORS    FROM    JAPAN  71 

said  Dr.  McLoughlin,  when  the  Hudson  Bay  bark  arrived 
for  its  cargo  of  autumn  furs  for  London.  With  many 
expressions  of  gratitude,  Ewa,  Kioko,  and  Oto  bade 
farewell  to  their  friends  at  Vancouver  and  were  taken 
to  England,  and  thence  to  Macao,  China,  where  an 
American  merchant,  Mr.  C.  W.  King,  undertook  to 
return  them  on  his  ship,  the  "  Morrison,"  into  the  bay 
of  Yedo. 

As  soon  as  the  "  Morrison,"  approaching  Japan,  sighted 
Cape  Idzu,  July  22,  1837,  signal  guns  could  be  heard, 
with  answering  guns  from  the  height  of  Uraga,  the  port- 
of-entry  of  Yedo.  "  That  must  mean  to  stop,"  said  the 
American  Captain,  dropping  anchor  opposite  Uraga. 
Twenty  boats  came  out,  crowded  with  Japanese,  who 
were  invited  on  board,  and  treated  to  sweet  wine  and 
biscuit  under  the  American  flag. 

"  We  are  friendly  Americans  and  wish  to  see  an 
officer.  Will  you  deliver  these  papers?  "  Drawing  their 
fingers  up  into  their  sleeves,  quickly  the  guests  withdrew, 
leaving  the  papers  untouched. 

While  the  puzzled  Americans  watched  their  retreating 
guests,  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  a  line  of  shore  bat 
teries  opened  full  upon  the  defenceless  merchantman. 
Astonished,  and  their  terror  hardly  greater  than  their 
disappointment,  "  Put  to  sea!  put  to  sea!  "  begged  Ewa 
and  Kioko.  The  ship  set  sail  and  hastened  away,  still 
followed  by  ineffective  firing. 

"  Nothing  could  induce  us  to  land  among  men  capable 
of  so  brutal  an  outrage !  "  cried  the  castaways,  recalling 
with  anguish  their  government's  stern  decree :  "  Japanese 
who  have  left  their  country  are  not  allowed  to  return 
save  under  penalty  of  death." 

Still,  with  hopes  so  suddenly  dashed,  the  wretched 
Japanese  felt  unable  to  give  up  the  desire  of  communi 
cating  with  their  wives  and  loved  ones.  "  Could  we  but 
send  letters,  to  tell  them  we  are  still  alive  and  in  kind 
hands,  we  should  be  satisfied.  Let  us  run  to  Kagoshima." 

A  few  fisherwomen  were  paddling  in  boats  at  Kago 
shima.  Slipping  in  among  the  fishers,  the  castaways 
reached  shore  and  told  their  moving  story.  At  a  tale 


72  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

so  heart-rending  women  and  children  wept  aloud,  and 
men  cried,  "  The  strangers  are  certainly  divine  beings 
who  have  come  to  restore  you."  The  village  officers 
immediately  deputed  one  of  their  number  to  go  on  board 
to  confer,  and  to  him,  a  samurai  of  the  double  sword, 
the  Americans  entrusted  the  papers  explaining  the  object 
of  their  voyage. 

Meanwhile,  the  castaways  brought  back  information 
from  the  simple  fisher-folk  of  distress  and  famine  in  the 
country,  on  account  of  the  destruction  of  last  year's  crops 
by  a  mighty  typhoon  that  for  thirteen  days  had  swept 
Japan,  devastating  whole  states  and  scattering  the  fishing 
fleets.  Great  was  the  lamentation,  and  insurrections  were 
reported  from  the  interior.  Osaka  had  been  burned. 

But  hark !  the  guns !  Unopened,  the  package  of  papers 
was  tossed  back,  and  again  hostile  batteries  began  to 
play,  until  only  the  flashes  could  be  seen  by  the  retreating 
merchantman.  Soon  after,  Ewa,  Kioko,  and  Oto  appeared 
on  deck  with  heads  shaved,  —  renouncing  their  country. 

"  Shall  we  try  Nagasaki  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Gutzlaff,  the 
missionary  from  Macao. 

"  No ;  after  what  has  occurred,  it  will  be  better  for 
us  to  die  than  to  place  ourselves  in  the  power  of  our 
government." 

"  But  if  you  return  to  Macao  with  us,  you  must  prepare 
to  earn  your  own  bread  from  the  moment  you  abandon 
your  country." 

"  To  be  sure.  Should  we  not  have  to  labor,  if  at  home, 
for  ourselves  and  our  starving  families  in  these  times 
of  scarcity?  " 

Thus,  peremptorily  refused  and  driven  back  under  the 
guns  of  Japan,  heart-broken,  the  unfortunate  Ewa,  Kioko, 
and  Oto  turned  away  from  their  native  shore,  to  find  a 
home  among  the  missionaries,  where  they  spent  their  days 
in  exile,  teaching  the  Japanese  language  and  translating 
the  Scriptures. 

Without  nautical  instruments  and  the  skill  necessary 
to  find  their  way  to  any  port  in  safety,  hundreds,  even 
thousands,  of  typhoon-swept  Japanese  were  drifting  to 
the  Pacific  islands,  and  had  drifted  for  ages,  to  Alaska, 


VISITORS    FROM    JAPAN  73 

Kamchatka,  Mexico,  California,  borne  ever  on  by  the 
mysterious  Kuro  Shiwo,  the  warm  and  resistless  Black 
Current,  the  Gulf  Stream  of  the  Pacific,  that  flowing 
eastward  up  along  the  Aleutian  Islands,  circles  and  sweeps 
down  past  the  fir-clad  shores  of  Northwest  America. 

"  We  doubt  not  this  whole  continent  has  been  peopled 
in  that  way,"  agreed  the  traders  at  Fort  Vancouver. 
"  Have  we  not  noticed  the  similarity  of  complexion  and 
customs  ?  " 

Some  argued  for  the  Japanese,  others  for  the  Chinese, 
and  others  even  for  the  Malays,  whose  curly-haired  de 
scendants  were  chiefs  on  the  Northwest  coast.  None 
had  failed  to  note  the  Mongolian  cast  of  features,  the 
skin,  light  copper,  the  long,  dark,  flowing  hair,  the  high 
cheek  bones,  the  aquiline  Roman  nose,  and  in  many  cases 
the  oblique  eye,  disappearing  gradually  as  the  tribes  roved 
eastward.  Rare  was  the  trader  who  had  not  found  a 
string  of  coins,  hundreds  of  years  old,  treasured  in  the 
teepee  of  the  savage,  —  "  out  of  the  sea,"  the  proud  pos 
sessors  claimed.  Even  up  on  the  Yukon  strange  tropic 
drift  of  ebony  and  mahogany  had  been  framed  into 
huts. 

"  The  conical  grass  hats  of  all  these  coast  tribes  are 
woven  exactly  like  those  of  the  Chinese,""  said  one, 
"  and  our  Indian  mats  are  Oriental  in  pattern.  In  his 
patriarchal  government,  his  nomadic  home,  his  Shaman- 
istic  religion,  the  American  Indjan  is  an  undoubted 
Mongolian." 

'  The  first  inhabitants  of  America  must  have  straggled 
across  from  Asia,  forming  fishing  camps  on  the  coast, 
and  bringing  their  bows,  arrows,  spears,  war  clubs,  basket 
making,  and  birch-bark  canoes,"  continued  another  philos 
opher  of  the  trading  forts.  "  The  Bering  Strait  is  easily 
crossed  in  a  canoe.  In  clear  weather  the  opposite  shores 
are  plainly  discerned,  and  in  Winter  a  sledge  on  the  ice 
can  pass  it  in  a  single  day.  The  Russians  tell  us  the 
first  coast  Siberians  they  met  had  numerous  traditions 
of  a  warmer  country  across  the  water,  with  green  Hill 
sides,  big  trees,  and  better  fishing.  Our  sailors  always 
call  those  Vladivostock  tribes  Asiatic  Indians,  and  does  n't 


74  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

everybody  know  there  is  a  chain  of  islands  along  the 
Aleutians  and  down  Alaska  to  Puget  Sound,  like  stepping- 
stones  to  the  Columbia  River?"  Some  even  theorized 
that  the  Columbia  River  may  have  been  the  main  path 
of  Asiatic  migration  eastward.  Others  argued  for  a 
great  river  farther  north,  directly  from  Siberia  into  the 
heart  of  North  America. 

"  If  only  the  Indians  had  not  that  foolish  superstition 
that  the  names  of  the  dead  must  never  be  mentioned, 
we  might  have  more  to  guide  us,"  said  Dr.  McLoughlin. 
"  As  it  is,  their  history  is  lost  in  a  single  generation." 

"  Malcolm  McLeod,  who  spent  five  years  at  Fort  Good 
Hope,  told  me  that  the  Mackenzie  River  Indians  often 
described  a  great  river  that  falls  into  the  sea  near  Icy 
Cape,  at  the  mouth  of  which  the  Russians  trade,"  vol 
unteered  Peter  Warren  Dease,  formerly  of  old  Spokane 
House.  "  Up  this  their  fathers  came  in  easy  Summer 
journeys.  All  those  Indians  have  a  clear  tradition  that 
their  ancestors  migrated  from  the  westward,  and  crossed 
an  arm  of  the  sea." 

"  Precisely  what  the  Blackfeet  say,"  added  Pierre 
Pambrun,  the  magnate  of  Fort  Walla  Walla.  "  '  Across 
a  great  lake  on  the  ice  our  fathers  came,  but  the  ice  broke 
and  we  could  never  return/  '  More  than  one  thought 
of  the  delicate  Japanese-featured  Shoshones,  the  gentle, 
tractable  Nez  Perces,  and  the  patient,  industrious  Flat- 
heads,  who,  penned  between  the  Upper  Columbia  and  the 
Rockies,  had  been  for  ages  the  prey  of  plundering  Tar- 
taric  tribes  of  roaming  Sioux  and  Blackfeet.  Did  not 
the  first  Shoshones  that  met  Lewis  and  Clark  sink  to 
their  knees  and  bow  their  heads  after  the  fashion  of 
Turks  and  Tartars? 

Even  the  Aztecs  were  discussed.  "  Their  civilization 
is  only  a  development  of  racial  customs  among  all  In 
dians,"  growled  one  who  had  trapped  and  traded  in  the 
South.  "  Even  their  clicking  itl,  atl,  istl,  and  otl,  equally 
characteristic  of  our  Chinooks  and  Nisquallies,  are  found 
all  the  way  from  Queen  Charlotte's  to  Mexico,  marking 
the  trail  of  the  old  Asiatic  migrations,  dropping  their 
language  bit  by  bit  as  they  journeyed  down  the  coast. 


VISITORS    FROM   JAPAN  75 

Who  knows  but  the  word  '  Mexico  '  itself  may  be  from 
'  Macao/  and  why  may  not  the  name  of  our  Killamooks 
be  traced  to  the  Kilmuck  Tartars?  Who  else  made  our 
Aztec  pictured  rocks  along-  the  Columbia  ?  Have  n't  you 
seen  them  at  the  Dalles?  Crowded  out,  spilled  over  into 
the  sea  by  those  old  fighting  Tartar  Khans,  to  whom 
beheading  was  a  pastime,  they  reached  America.  Even 
our  most  inland  tribes,  like  the  Klamaths,  have  traditions 
of  once  dwelling  by  the  sea." 

"  Did  n't  La  Framboise  say  he  had  found  ancient 
bodies  buried  sitting,  in  mounds,  up  the  Willamette,  in 
precisely  the  same  attitude  as  in  those  Japanese  firkins  ?  " 
ventured  McNeill.  "  Just  so  the  mound-builders  of  Ohio 
placed  their  dead,  sitting,  and  others  have  been  discovered 
in  the  Mammoth  Cave  of  Kentucky." 

'  Then  look  at  the  lily-like  wapato,  the  queen  root  food 
of  the  Columbia,"  persisted  Pambrun.  "  The  Indians 
themselves  tell  us  it  came  from  over  the  sea,  by  some 
junk,  no  doubt,  wrecked  long  ago.  It  is  found  only  on  the 
Pacific  coast,  yet  every  sailor  tells  us  he  has  seen  it  on 
the  Yang-tse-Kiang  and  the  Hoangho."  -  All  agreed  that 
the  wapato  was  plainly  an  exotic,  but  when  brought,  or  by 
whom,  no  one  knew ;  nor  had  any  of  them  heard  that  lotus 
and  lily-bulbs  were  favorite  vegetables  of  the  Japanese. 

"  So,  I  have  seen  Corean  mothers  with  babies  on  their 
backs,"  continued  McNeill,  "and  I  thought  then  how 
like  Indians  they  looked.  Their  houses,  too,  are  like  the 
rancherias  of  Keasno  here,  and  of  .Seattle  on  the  Sound. 
The  New  Bedford  whalers  every  now  and  then  report 
picking  up  water-logged  junks  adrift  with  a  handful  of 
starving  survivors  like  those  lately  here  at  Vancouver. 
In  fact,  by  following  the  current  in  good  June  weather, 
one  could  come  from  Japan  to  this  coast 'in  a  paddle- 
boat.  A  river  in  the  sea,  deep,  blue,  and  warm,  comes 
sweeping  this  way  at  a  tremendous  rate,  and  even  has 
seaweed  in  it  like  the  Gulf  Stream." 

"  But  women  —  how  about  women?"  inquired  the 
practical  Dr.  McLoughlin.  "Did  we  not  hear  that 
women  were  cast  ashore  in  those  wrecks  at  the  Queen 
Charlotte  Islands?" 


76  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  Oh,  women  often  go  on  junks ;  they  are  better  fishers 
than  men,"  answered  McNeill,  who  had  frequently  skirted 
the  shores  of  Asia.  "  And  are  not  our  own  klootchmen 
the  best  boat  crews  of  the  coast?  "  No  one  could  deny 
that  Indian  boat  wTomen  were  even  more  numerous  than 
men  in  and  out  of  the  Northwest  fiords. 

Once  into  this  sort  of  discussion  there  seemed  no  end 
to  it,  and,  indeed,  the  venturesome  traders  of  the  North 
west  had  long  since  settled  it,  to  their  own  satisfaction 
at  least,  that  their  Indians  were  an  offshoot  of  the 
Asiatics,  and  thought  no  more  about  it.  The  impressible 
children  of  Fort  Vancouver  treasured  these  talks  of  their 
elders,  and  wondered  about  the  land  across  the  sea,  but 
none  more  than  Ranald  McDonald.  In  his  little  bunk- 
bed  in  the  night-time  he  dreamed  of  his  friends  Ewa, 
Kioko,  and  Oto,  and  longed  to  visit  them  in  their  own 
country.  What  was  it  like?  How  would  they  receive 
him?  Was  it  as  beautiful  as  they  said,  —  a  kingdom  of 
temples  and  flowers? 


XI 

AN   AMERICAN   FORT 

IN  the  days  while  yet  the  Japanese  were  lying  sick  at 
the  hospital,    strange   rumors   had   come   from   the 
upper   country.      "  The   Boston   captain,    he   comes 
again.     He  is  building  a  fort  on  the  Snake,  greater  than 
Fort  Vancouver.     The  Boston  flag  is  flying,  and  he  has 
sent  for  all  the  nations  of  Indians  to  come  in  and  trade." 
Dr.  McLoughlin  was  disturbed.    "  Bless  me!  bless  me! 
it  must  be  Captain  Wyeth!     I  had  hoped  he  would  be 
discouraged  by  last  year's  fiasco,  and  give  it  up." 

But  no,  down  the  Columbia  Captain  Wyeth  was  coming 
with  more  followers  than  ever,  and,  as  before,  appeared 
directly  at  headquarters  at  Fort  Vancouver,  introducing 


The  little  brown  men  bad  thrown  themselves  on  the  floor." 


AN    AMERICAN    FORT  77 

Jason  Lee  and  a  company  of  Boston  missionaries  who  had 
crossed  the  continent  to  locate  in  Oregon. 

"  Yes,"  in  answer  to  the  Doctor's  inquiries,  "  I  have 
built  a  fort,  and  a  good  one,  too.  It  looks  quite  warlike. 
With  one  hundred  guns  in  the  bastions  constantly  loaded, 
Fort  Hall  strikes  terror  to  the  heart  of  the  skulking 
savage,  and  presents  a  refuge  of  safety  to  the  fugitive 
hunter.  Your  people  are  welcome  to  stop  there  whenever 
they  are  passing  through  that  region." 

Dr.  McLoughlin  cleared  his  throat  and  coughed.  It 
was  difficult  to  parry  that  kind  invitation,  for  long 
it  had  been  a  fixed  policy  of  his  company  to  erect  a  rival 
stronghold  whenever  a  stranger  entered  their  sphere  of 
influence.  And  already  Tom  McKay  had  been  instructed 
to  build  Fort  Boise  to  draw  away  his  trade. 

'  The  flag  we  manufactured  ourselves,"  continued 
Wyeth,  unconscious  of  the  Doctor's  thought ;  "  we  made 
it  of  unbleached  sheeting,  a  little  red  flannel,  and  a  few 
blue  patches  for  stars,  saluted  it  with  damaged  powder, 
and  wet  it  in  villanous  alcohol.  But,  after  all,  Fort  Hall 
makes  a  very  respectable  appearance,  Doctor,  I  do  assure 
you." 

Captain  Wyeth  had  such  an  open  way  that  he  made 
lifelong  friends,  even  of  those  who  feared  him  most. 
Every  remark  was  frankness  itself,  but  the  Doctor  was 
uneasy.  No  rival  like  this  had  ever  so  stolen  his  heart. 
"  And  you  have  a  ship?  "  •» 

"  Certainly,  the  *  May  Dacre,'  just  now  coming  up  the 
river  with  implements  for  the  salmon  fishery,  and  for 
storing  furs.  We  had  planned  to  take  on  salmon  this 
Spring,  but  the  brig  was  struck  by  lightning  at  Valparaiso, 
so  her  captain  says,  losing  three  months,  and  the  salmon 
season  into  the  bargain.  There  is  nothing  for  us  but  to 
lie  over  another  year  and  get  acquainted  with  the  Japs," 
he  added  with  a  quiet  laugh.  Deeply  interested  had  all 
the  Bostonians  been  in  the  little  brown  men,  who,  as 
soon  as  out  of  bed,  had  thrown  themselves  on  the  floor 
at  the  feet  of  Dr.  McLoughlin. 

"  Tut,  tut,  tut !  "  The  ^Doctor  assisted  them  up.  "  I 
have  done  no  more  than  you  would  have  done  had  an 


78  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

American  stranded  on  the  shores  of  Japan."  But  never 
did  they  meet  the  Doctor  without  the  same  prostration. 

Captain  Wyeth,  looking  on,  jotted  in  his  journal: 
"  Here  is  a  man  who  has  power  and  uses  it  as  a  man 
should  to  make  those  about  him  comfortable  and  happy  " ; 
and  all  together  went  in  to  hear  the  first  Protestant 
sermon  on  the  Pacific  coast,  preached  by  Jason  Lee  at 
old  Fort  Vancouver.  It  was  a  motley  congregation  that 
day  on  the  Columbia,  —  fragments  of  the  advance-guard 
of  nations,  —  English,  Scotch,  French,  Indian,  American, 
Hawaiian,  Asiatic.  In  the  very  attitude  of  Jason  Lee, 
the  Japanese  had  knelt,  clasped  their  hands,  and  looked 
above,  as  if  habitues  of  some  revered  altar  beyond  seas. 

"  Of  course  they  understood ;  they  are  intelligent 
people,"  Wyeth  had  said,  hurrying  away  to  meet  Cap 
tain  Lambert,  who  had  brought  him  a  score  of  Sandwich 
Islanders,  carpenters,  coopers,  smiths,  and  other  artisans, 
on  board  the  "  May  Dacre,"  now  anchored  near  Keasno's 
house  at  Wakanasissi  on  the  Willamette,  six  miles  below 
Vancouver. 

In  the  midst  of  his  decaying  totems,  old  Keasno  eyed 
the  stranger  with  suspicion.  "  Another  Boston  captain 
with  more  sickness,"  he  muttered,  hastening  to  flee  as 
from  a  pestilence. 

Wapato  Island,  green  as  a  garden,  and  abounding  with 
deer,  bear,  panthers,  and  elk,  lay  opposite  Wakanasissi. 
Beaver  were  plentiful,  and  wild  fowl  made  so  much 
noise  the  hunter  could  not  sleep  at  night.  In  winter, 
ducks,  geese,  and  swans  swarmed  over  Wapato  in  such 
immense  numbers  that  Indians  carried  them  to  Fort 
Vancouver  by  boat-loads,  and  many  a  prime  young  deer 
went  for  a  handful  of  ammunition. 

"  This  will  make  excellent  headquarters,"  said  Captain 
Wyeth,  erecting  a  shelter  and  sending  out  hunters  and 
trappers  all  over  the  country.  But  so  deftly  the  rival 
Hudson  Bay  traders  clogged  them  at  every  step,  that 
invariably  his  couriers  came  in  empty.  Even  the  Indians 
annoyed  them,  and  his  Sandwich  Islanders  ran  away, 
terrified  by  the  tales  they  heard  of  the  savage  interior. 
Wapato  Island  was  a  deadly  place,  "  A  mortality  has 


AN    AMERICAN    FORT  79 

carried  off  to  a  man  its  inhabitants,"  Captain  Wyeth 
wrote  to  a  friend  in  the  States,  "  and  there  is  nothing 
to  attest  they  ever  existed  except  their  decaying  houses, 
their  graves,  and  their  unburied  bones,  of  which  there 
are  heaps." 

As  the  months  slipped  by,  oft  in  his  lodge  at  night 
Captain  Wyeth  sat  on  the  ground  and  thought  of  his. 
Cambridge  home,  of  his  little  wife  there  mourning  her 
absent  husband,  of  his  college  lot  and  his  budding  trees 
under  the  shades  of  Harvard,  and  of  his  old  cronies,  of 
whom  he  said,  "  As  the  hearts  of  Kings  tremble  at  the 
name  of  Napoleon,  so  mine  vibrates  at  the  recollection 
of  old  joys,"  —  all,  all  in  contrast  with  his  present  in 
creasing  losses,  fourteen  men  dead  now,  by  drowning 
and  scalping,  not  one  by  a  natural  death.  "  I  shall  try 
it  one  more  year,"  he  said  on  a  visit  to  Dr.  McLoughlin, 
"  and  then  if  no  better  success  can  be  had,  I  shall  quit 
it  and  return  to  whatever  business  I  can  find  to  make  a 
living." 

The  Doctor  had  bad  news. 

"  Jemmy  Jock,  that  renegade  half-breed,  is  at  his  tricks 
again,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  Mr.  Wyeth.  Tom  McKay 
sends  word  down  that  with  a  few  Blackfeet  Jemmy  went 
to  Fort  Hall,  and  called  across  the  river  to  your  people, 
announcing  beaver  for  sale.  Antoine  Godin  went  out 
and  smoked  the  pipe  of  peace  with  the  Blackfeet;  even 
as  they  smoked  Jemmy  Jock  gave  the  signal  and  Godin 
was  scalped.  '  Come,  bury  your  cjead !  '  he  hallooed  to 
the  fort  people,  and  galloped  out  of  sight."  Wyeth 
groaned. 

"  Hnsh-sh-sh !  "  Dr.  McLoughlin  noted  the  pricked 
up  ears  of  David  and  Ranald,  and  Dominick  Pambrun, 
and  added  in  a  loud  tone,  "  The  scoundrel  will  be  caught 
one  of  these  days  and  hung  for  his  crimes.  Boys !  why 
are  you  not  in  bed?"  Justly  the  Doctor  feared  the 
influence  of  such  an  example  on  these  youthful  minds. 
"  Mind  you,  men,  speak  no  more  of  Jemmy  Jock." 

By  April  every  one  of  Wyeth's  men  was  sick  on 
Wapato  Island,  "  and  nothing  but  pure  obstinacy  has 
kept  me  from  being  hauled  up,"  he  said  to  his  friend, 


8o  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

the  Doctor,  who  spared  no  pains  to  alleviate  the  ills  of 
the  suffering-  Americans.  But  at  last  the  dauntless  spirit 
was  stricken,  and  Wyeth,  too,  lay  as  one  dead  in  his 
camp.  Again  the  salmon  season  went  by,  and  he  was 
not  there  to  superintend. 

"  There  has  been  the  devil's  own  work  in  this  country," 
the  broken-spirited  Bostonian  reported  in  September  as 
he  was  recovering  from  the  mysterious  fever.  At  last 
he  despaired.  "  A  business  scattered  over  half  the  deserts 
of  the  earth,  myself  a  powerless  lump  of  matter  in  the 
extremity  of  mortal  pain,  with  little  hope  of  surviving 
a  day,  and,  if  it  could  be  said,  '  he  never  existed,'  glad  to 
go  down  with  the  sun.  Our  salmon  fishing  has  not 
succeeded,  our  people  are  sick  and  dying  like  rotten 
sheep." 

After  unparalleled  misfortunes  and  opposition,  barely 
dragging  himself  together  and  selling  Fort  Hall  to  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company  for  what  he  could  get,  Captain 
Wyeth  prepared  to  leave  the  country.  But  not  all  went. 
Of  the  fifty  who  came  with  Wyeth  that  second  time, 
nineteen  remained  permanently  in  the  country,  the  nucleus 
of  future  American  occupation.  As,  sick  and  weary  and 
hating  to  look  upon  the  sun,  Captain  Wyeth  was  drag 
ging  himself  up  the  Columbia,  he  met  Dr.  Samuel  Parker 
of  Ithaca,  New  York,  the  herald  and  vanguard  of  another 
new  lot  of  missionaries.  The  fishing  villages  at  the 
Cascades  were  deserted,  the  shores  were  strewn  with 
unburied  dead,  where,  to  allay  the  burning  heat  of  the 
fever,  they  had  plunged  into  the  river,  and  rarely  sur 
vived  the  sudden  chill.  But  almost  the  pestilence  had 
done  its  worst  and  spent  itself.  Long  since  the  school 
at  Vancouver  had  been  closed,  the  enervated  school 
master  had  taken  an  Indian  bride  and  gone  up  the 
valley,  and  to  get  his  son  David  away  from  the  conta 
gion  Dr.  McLoughlin  had  sent  him  to  England.  Ranald 
McDonald  had  gone  to  Fort  Colville,  where  again  in 
the  whirligig  of  rotation  his  father  was  ruling  the  Upper 
Columbia. 

"  Welcome  to  Vancouver !  "  Dr.  McLoughlin  took  the 
clergyman  by  the  hand.  "  Make  the  fort  your  home  for 


AN    AMERICAN    FORT  81 

the  Winter,  or  as  long  as  it  suits  your  convenience."  The 
offer  was  gladly  accepted,  and  as  Captain  Lambert  and 
his  brig,  the  "  May  Dacre,"  were  just  leaving  the  river 
with  Wyeth's  outfit,  Dr.  Parker  took  a  run  down  the 
Columbia  for  a  look  at  the  ocean. 

For  a  long  time  the  tall  American  stood  with  his  hands 
under  his  coat-tails,  facing  the  end  of  the  West.  Then 
he,  too,  recorded  in  his  journal : 

"  When  I  looked  upon  the  dark,  rolling  waves  and 
reflected  upon  the  vast  expanse  without  an  intervening 
island  until  you  arrive  at  Japan,  a  stretch  of  thought  was 
required  like  contemplating  infinity." 

A  brig  from  the  north,  with  boarding  nettings  up  and 
guns  loaded,  came  beating  across  the  bar.  Long  since 
Captain  McNeill  of  the  "  Llama  "  had  carried  John  Work 
to  Fort  Simpson,  but  Josette  and  the  children,  warned 
by  sad  experience,  were  still  at  Vancouver.  As  the 
"  Llama  "  reached  Vancouver  three  little  girls  and  their 
youthful  mother  ran  down  with  smiles  to  greet  the 
Captain  and  his  ship : 

"  What  good  word  bring  you  from  our  papa  ?  And 
when  can  we  come  to  Fort  Simpson?" 

Distrustful   of   those   fierce   Northern   tribes,    Captain 
McNeill  doubted  whether  they  ever  could  go.     Wisely 
he  pondered   a  moment  to  put  the  time   far   away,  - 
"  When  the  first  steamship  enters  the  Pacific  Ocean  he 
says  you  may  be  brought  to  him." 

Steamship  ?  steamship  ?  Magic  word !  But  when  it 
would  come  no  one  knew.  The  smiling  mother  melted 
to  tears,  and,  gathering  her  little  brood,  disappeared. 
Long  in  command  of  opposition  ships  trading  on  the 
Northwest  coast,  noted  for  kind-heartedness,  courage, 
activity,  impetuosity,  and  strictness  of  discipline,  Captain 
McNeill  reported  constant  watchfulness  necessary  at  Fort 
Simpson. 

Poor  Mr.  Work!  always  looking  longingly  back  at 
civilized  life,  heartsick  at  savagery,  the  separation  from 
his  family  had  been  a  wrench  at  the  heart.  "  But  the 
coast  is  no  place  for  families,"  he  had  said  to  Dr. 
McLoughlin.  "  It  is  sufficient  for  myself  to  be  exposed 

6 


82  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

to  the  dangers  of  shipwreck,  and  the  savage,  treacherous 
Indians.  This  is  a  cursed  country,  where  one  has  to  be 
separated  from  all  that  is  dear  to  him  in  this  world.  But 
duty  calls,  and  I  go." 

"  Because  we  trust  you,"  responded  the  Doctor.  "  Fort 
Simpson  has  been  established  in  fear  and  trembling,  so 
untamed  are  those  Indians  of  the  Northwest  coast;  but 
it  is  the  key  to  a  great  harbor,  and  may  be  made  head 
quarters  for  the  Northern  interior.  If  any  man  can  hold 
it,  that  man  is  John  Work."  And  so,  John  Work  had 
sailed  to  the  Siberia  of  the  fur  trade. 

Just  within  54°  40'  at  the  northern  end  of  a  peninsula 
lay  Fort  Simpson,  the  post  next  to  the  Russian  territory. 
Here  it  was  that  Peter  Skeen  Ogden,  first  of  white  men, 
had  pitched  his  tent,  and  built  a  fort,  and  floated  the 
British  flag.  Straightway  the  natives  threatened  to  burn 
Fort  Simpson,  threw  stones  at  his  sentries,  and  then  fell 
into  a  battle  among  themselves.  Into  this  came  John 
Work.  Rich  and  independent  were  those  warlike  tribes, 
with  their  rude  weapons,  copper  knives,  copper  spears, 
arrowheads,  and  daggers  of  pure  red  copper,  reenforced 
now  by  Hudson  Bay  muskets,  —  always  marauding,  al 
ways  planning  some  clandestine  expedition,  some  surprise 
against  the  enemy,  who  might  one  hour  be  feasting  by 
the  shore,  the  next  lie  stark  with  rows  of  heads  against 
the  rocks. 

Heads,  heads,  heads,  was  their  old  Mongolian  longing ; 
once  a  year  at  least  must  these  Northern  warriors  go  on 
a  rai^l,  bringing  home  long  trains  of  captives  and  canoe 
loads  of  heads,  whole  fleets  of  heads,  as  ghastly  battle 
trophies.  Haunched  around  their  fires,  like  demons  they 
scalped  the  heads,  fitted  the  scalps  on  frames,  and  dried 
them  into  skullcaps  for  future  fetes.  War-dances,  bodies 
of  slaughtered  slaves  cast  to  the  dogs,  pyramids  of  heads, 
—  such  were  the  horrors  of  the  Northwest  coast.  But 
there  came  a  hush,  a  fierce  moaning  among  the  tribes, 
and  then,  one  awful  day,  they  closed  in  to  take  the  fort; 
seas  of  Indians  and  fleets  of  canoes  beleaguered  the  lone 
watch-tower  of  the  North.  With  a  handful  of  men  and 
diminished  ammunition,  John  Work  was  shut  up  in  his 


THE    FIRST    PACIFIC    STEAMBOAT       83 

castle,  when  lo !  a  sail  appeared  in  the  harbor,  a  Hudson 
Bay  cannon  belched  fire  and  confusion.  The  terrified 
red  men  scattered  as  Dr.  Tolmie  and  Captain  McNeill, 
disembarking,  went  up  to  the  fort. 

"  And  what  in  the  name  of  God  is  the  cause  of  all 
this  outbreak  ?  "  was  the  first  inquiry  of  the  newcomers. 

"  Why,  man  alive,"  responded  the  rescued  Chief 
Factor,  "  these  Indians  are  dying  like  flies  of  the 
smallpox,  and  they  are  blaming  Fort  Simpson !  " 

No  wonder  Captain  McNeill  had  doubts  as  to  the 
advisability  of  Madame  Work's  taking  a  trip  to  the 
North. 


XII 

THE   FIRST   PACIFIC   STEAMBOAT 

"  T  T   is   more  than   a   surprise,    it   is  -a   revelation ! " 

Drawing   his   blue   cloth    cloak   around    him,    Dr. 

A    McLoughlin  stood  on  the  bank  of  the  Columbia, 

watching  the  steamer  "  Beaver,"  just  out  from  England. 

"  Their  Honors  have  done  the  handsome  thing  to  send 
this  brig  to  save  our  distance,"  remarked  Archibald 
McDonald,  down  from  Fort  Colville. 

"And  to  their  credit,"  added  Peter  Skeen  Ogden, 
just  in  from  his  latest  charge,  Fort  St.  James  beyond  the 
Fraser,  where  he  practically  ruled  New  Caledonia. 

"  Yes,"  assented  McLoughlin,  thoughtfully,  "  when  I 
asked  the  London  Board  to  send  out  a  steamboat  I  never 
expected  anything  so  complete  as  this." 

"  Nice,  clean,  spruce,  as  neat  as  a  pin !  "  -  her  Cap 
tain,  Daniel  Home,  patted  the  trim  little  bark  like  a  thing 
of  life.  "  It  was  a  great  day  when  we  launched  her  on 
the  Thames  last  August;  the  King  was  there,  and  all 
his  household,  and  when  the  Duchess  broke  the  bottle 
of  champagne  over  her  bow,  and  bestowed  the  name  of 
'  Beaver/  the  cheers  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 


84  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

people  shook  the  very  bridge  of  London.  Watt,  a  son 
of  the  great  Watt  himself,  put  in  the  engine  and  boilers, 
but  afraid  to  trust  the  wheels  to  the  sea,  he  packed  them 
inside  as  cargo,  and  we  sailed  under  canvas.  It  is  strange 
how  mysterious  the  Pacific  seems  to  our  people.  They 
talk  of  Drake,  and  Captain  Cook,  and  the  cannibals  out 
here  where  you  Hudson  Bay  traders  are  taking  the 
earth." 

At  this  a  hearty  laugh  ran  around  the  circle,  —  for  did 
they  not  all  know,  indeed,  that  the  Columbia  River  was 
the  very  end  and  jumping-orl  place  of  creation;  that 
nothing  lay  beyond  save  Japan,  the  lost  Zipangu  of  the 
ancients  ? 

"It  is  glory  enough  to  have  brought  her  here,"  con 
tinued  the  Captain ;  "  the  first  steamer  in  the  Pacific,  - 
in   fact,   the   second   on   any   ocean,    for  only   the   little 
'  Savannah  '  has  ever  yet  ventured  across  the  Atlantic." 

The  immensity  of  it  duly  impressed  them  all.  "  They 
feared  to  trust  us  alone,  so  the  old  Hudson  Bay  bark 
'  Columbia '  accompanied  us  as  a  consort,  and  all  the 
way  down  the  Atlantic  this  little  '  Beaver  '  was  constantly 
shortening  sail  to  wait  for  the  larger  vessel,  and,  finally, 
after  rounding  the  Horn,  we  lost  her  altogether,  and 
made  the  rest  of  the  journey  alone." 

The  gentlemen  nodded  their  heads.  "  A  great  feat, 
a  great  feat  for  a  little  thing  like  this,  but  nothing  at  all 
to  what  she  will  do  when  you  put  on  steam."  The  very 
pennon  fluttered  acknowledgment  to  their  praises,  and  the 
mizzen-mast  of  vivid  green  shone  in  the  morning  sun. 

The  ship's  carpenter  and  crew  were  fitting  in  the 
paddle-wheels  and  testing  the  engines.  "  Come,  gentle 
men,  let  us  try  her  in  a  May-day  turn  around  Wapato," 
cried  the  Captain.  Gingerly,  one  after  another,  Mc- 
Loughlin,  McDonald,  Ogden,  and  Finlayson  stepped 
aboard,  and  little  Billy  McKay,  who  told  the  tale  in 
after  years. 

A  snort,  a  cough,  and  a  rush  of  steam  shook  the  oaken 
timbers  from  centre  to  circumference.  The  wheels  began 
to  vibrate,  splashing  up  the  foam.  The  bell  jingled,  —  a 
bright,  new  bell,  with  "  Beaver  1835  "  embroidered  on 


THE    FIRST    PACIFIC    STEAMBOAT        85 

her  border.  Then  came  a  shout  from  the  shore,  "  The 
brigantine !  the  brigantine !  She  starts,  she  is  going !  " 
The  whole  business  of  Vancouver  was  suspended,  as  all 
the  fort  people  flocked  to  watch  the  little  side-wheeler 
majestically  moving  from  anchor. 

"  Bon  voyage !  bon  voyage !  "  Frantic  Canadians 
waved  their  caps  in  air,  splitting  their  throats  with 
cheers. 

"  She  cost  fifteen  thousand  pounds,  but  our  commerce 
will  soon  repay  it."  Dr.  McLoughlin  was  leaning  over 
the  rails  to  watch  her  mode  of  motion.  "  At  all  events 
we  shall  have  a  decided  advantage  over  our  opponents. 
She  paddles  like  a  duck." 

"Advantage?  Lord,  yes!"  cackled  Skeen  Ogden's 
falsetto  note.  "  Even  if  there  are  four  American  vessels 
on  the  coast,  everything  now  is  in  our  favor  from  Fort 
Simpson  to  the  Umpqua." 

"  And  we  must  make  the  most  of  it,"  bassoed  Mc 
Donald,  "  for  the  moment  the  Americans  get  an  entrepot 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  our  advantages  are  gone 
forever." 

"  But,  gentlemen,  Boston  is  four  thousand  miles  away, 
directly  across  the  continent,  with  endless  rivers,  plains, 
and  mountain  chains  between,"  chimed  in  Duncan  Fin- 
layson.  "  It  will  be  a  long  time  before  America  can 
overcome  the  obstacles  of  nature."  More  than  one  was 
thinking  of  Captain  Wyeth,  as  they  steamed  around  his 
deserted  island. 

"  But  Wyeth  was  not  all,"  insisted  Ogden,  nodding 
and  nodding  his  head.  "  He  brought  with  him  an  as 
sortment  of  missionaries,  and  five  more,  —  two  in  quest 
of  flowers,  two  killing  all  the  birds  on  the  Columbia,  and 
one  for  minerals,  all  with  letters  from  the  President  of 
the  United  States,  and  you  know  it  would  not  have  been 
good  policy  not  to  treat  them  politely.  They  were  a 
perfect  nuisance." 

"  Nevertheless,  gentlemen,  Wyeth  is  an  honest  man 
with  good  blood  in  him,"  concluded  the  Doctor,  reaching 
for  a  pinch  of  Finlayson's  snuff.  "  He  is  English,  as  we 
are  at  bottom." 


86  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Meanwhile,  every  nook  and  cranny  of  the  novel  vessel 
were  under  inspection.  Some  were  peeping  into  the 
Captain's  room :  "  Neat  little  cabin,  gentlemen,  —  chest  of 
drawers  and  bunk,  everything  ship-shape."  Others  were 
at  the  forecastle,  where  hammock  hooks  attached  to  the 
timbers  supported  the  swinging  slumbers  of  the  sailors. 
And  the  sailors  themselves,  active,  robust,  weather-beaten, 
jolly,  good-natured  men,  fat,  some  young,  some  grizzled, 
some  grown  gray  in  the  Hudson  Bay  service,  were  glad 
to  exhibit  the  armament  on  deck,  with  barricades  and 
boarding  nettings  all  around  to  screen  from  savages, 
muskets  and  cutlasses  in  order,  and  brass  guns,  —  four 
six-pounders. 

"  A  skookum  ship !  "  whispered  old  Keasno  in  tones 
of  awe  as  the  vision  passed  his  tumble-down  lodge  on  the 
Willamette,  "  a  fire  ship !  "  Keasno's  great  house  stood 
desolate,  its  timbers  covered  with  moss,  its  hearthstones 
cold,  with  only  Keasno  at  the  door. 

"  Let  us  take  the  old  fellow  in."  McLoughlin  waved 
his  beaver.  "  Let  the  last  of  the  Multnomahs  ride  on 
the  first  steamer  in  his  ancestral  waters." 

"  What  think  ye  of  it?  "  questioned  the  Doctor,  when, 
after  some  persuasion,  the  amazed  old  Keasno  was  finally 
seated,  and  the  steamer  turned  again  her  nose  from  the 
bank. 

Quaking  like  an  aspen,  quivering  in  every  limb, 
"Do  not  ask  me!"  murmured  the  surprised  red  man, 
looking  Dr.  McLoughlin  questioningly  in  the  eye.  "  My 
friends  will  say  I  tell  lies  when  I  let  them  know  what 
I  have  seen!  Indians  are  fools  and  know  nothing!  I 
can  see  that  the  iron  makes  the  ship  go,  but  I  cannot  see 
what  makes  the  iron  itself  go,  —  a  ship  that  needs  neither 
sails  nor  paddles !  " 

"  I  left  old  Frangois  Rivet  in  charge  as  summer 
master  and  deputy  governor  of  Fort  Colville,"  sounded 
McDonald's  deep  bass,  conversing  with  Ogden  in  the 
hush  that  succeeded  the  speech  of  Keasno.  "  He  is 
our  best  interpreter,  claims  to  have  been  with  Lewis 
and  Clark.  Yes,  we  are  doing  well  at  Colville;  as  for 
crops,  five  thousand  bushels  of  wheat  last  year,  one 


THE    FIRST    PACIFIC    STEAMBOAT        87, 

thousand  of  corn,  and  twelve  hundred  or  so  of  other 
grain." 

The  Doctor  came  over  to  the  speakers. 

"  Your  three  calves,  Doctor,  are  up  to  fifty-five,  and 
your  three  grunters  would  have  swarmed  the  country 
had  we  not  made  a  point  to  keep  them  down  to  one 
hundred  and  fifty." 

"But  furs?" 

"  Furs  are  playing  out,  Doctor.  You  cannot  say, 
though,  that  my  bill  for  clerk  hire  is  extravagant,  for 
I  may  almost  say  there  is  not  a  man  in  the  district  who 
can  sign  his  own  name,  although  I  have  twenty-eight 
men  and  boys  at  Colville,  to  say  nothing  of  Indian 
domestics.  Trade  is  now  on  a  more  liberal  scale  in 
consequence  of  the  number  of  adventurers  pouring  in 
upon  us  from  the  American  side  of  the  mountains." 

"  Beleaguering  on  every  hand !  —  how  do  they  get 
here  ? "  Peter  Skeen  Ogden  certainly  knew  before 
asking. 

"  Overland  from  the  Missouri  upon  tours  to  the 
Columbia,  —  Bonneville,  whom  Pambrun  drove  back, 
and  scores  in  addition.  Traversing  the  continent  in 
that  direction  is  now  becoming  more  safe  and  familiar 
to  our  ears  every  day.  I  have  now  St.  Louis  cows  and 
horses  at  Fort  Colville.  What  think  ye  of  that?" 

To  say  that  Oregon  would  become  a  settled  country 
was  like  the  knell  of  doom  to  the  fur  traders.  "  But  the 
Willamette  is  better  than  Red  River',"  insisted  the  Doctor. 
"  We  must  now  absolutely  make  a  bold  stand  in  the 
frontiers." 

All  too  swiftly  the  "  Beaver "  concluded  her  cruise 
around  the  mouth  of  the  still  Willamette,  and  three 
cheers  greeted  her  back  to  anchor.  A  few  more  trials, 
and  she  ran  out  of  the  Columbia  to  the  north,  with 
Duncan  Finlayson  to  superintend  her  first  essay  in  those 
seas,  running  up  into  little  firths  and  inlets  where  never 
a  ship  had  dared  to  go,  harvesting  furs,  —  furs  from 
tribes  that  never  before  had  seen  a  white  man.  If  the 
Tsimpseans  around  Fort  Simpson  were  amazed  and  ter 
rified  at  the  steamer,  still  more  were  they  when  the 


88  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

curly-haired  Kanakas  led  horses  off  the  strange  vessel, 
slipped  on  bridles,  and  jumping  on  their  backs  rode  up 
to  the  white  man's  stronghold.  Ten  thousand  circuses 
had  come  with  the  white  man !  Tales  of  Hellenic  cen 
taurs  pale  before  the  fables  that  flew  among  the  canoe 
tribes,  of  the  Ship  of  Fire  laden  with  dragons  shod  with 
thunder.  Even  -the  clatter  of  their  hoofs  on  the  rocks 
left  a  never-to-be-forgotten  spell  on  the  ears  of  the 
mystified  red  men. 

But  the  "  Beaver!"  the  "Beaver!"  Astonished  and 
delighted,  Chief  Trader  Work  began  to  plan  for  his 
family. 

"  We  are  clearing  a  place  for  a  garden ;  the  Indians 
are  reasonably  quiet  now,  the  fort  is  strong,  we  have 
built  new  watch  and  shooting  towers.  On  the  whole, 
Mr.  Finlayson,  I  think  it  will  be  safe  to  send  up  my 
family." 

So  in  December  the  stanch  little  steamer  set  out  on 
her  second  trip  to  the  North,  bearing  Josette  and  her  two 
youngest  children,  —  five-year-old  Letitia,  and  Baby  Mar 
gery,  —  day  after  day  watching  the  receding  shores  of 
the  green  Alaskan  sea  that  sweeps  from  Puget  Sound  to 
Asia.  Up,  up  they  steamed  among  labyrinthine  cliffs, 
watching  the  gambols  of  great  whales  in  hill-surrounded 
harbors  where  to-morrow  should  ride  the  navies  of  the 
world;  no  sand  beaches  invited  repose,  no  gravelly 
shores,  but  mountain  precipices  lifted  rock-ribbed  from 
the  blue-green  water.  Sea-gulls  screamed  overhead,  or 
whitened  the  promontories  trodden  yet  by  no  foot  of 
man. 

"  Coming !  coming !  coming !  "  —  the  steam  whistle 
of  the  little  black  brigantine  called  to  enfilading  walls 
and  headlands,-  "Coming!  coming!"  The  red  man 
heard  and  hastened ;  here  was  a  lesson  in  the  power  of 
the  white  race.  Ferocity  vanished,  awe  overspread  the 
barbarian  face,  wanton  cruelty  sank  abject  before  the 
mighty  machine  that  swept  those  intricate  channels 
without  oars  or  sails. 

"  Ease  her !  stop  her !  move  her  astern !  "  was  the  call 
one  noon  when  the  steamer  swept  into  a  beautiful  bay 


THE    FIRST    PACIFIC    STEAMBOAT       89 

with  excellent  anchorage  for  shipping.  The  anchor  went 
down,  the  resonant  steam  eagle  sent  off  a  shriek  that 
made  the  Tsimpseans  tremble.  The  Naas  Indians,  gath 
ering  from  great  distances  in  their  long  canoes,  dropped 
their  broad-bladed  Chinook  paddles  with  a  howl  of 
despair. 

High  in  the  watch-tower  for  days  Mr.  Work  had  kept 
a  man  on  the  lookout,  fearful  of  trouble  for  the  little 
black  "  Beaver."  But  no,  grandly  she  steamed  in,  nearer, 
nearer,  like  a  warhorse  snorting  fire,  until  even  the 
Tsimpseans  took  to  the  hills.  Looking  back,  they  be 
held  the  Chief  Trader  himself  helping  a  woman  over  the 
gang-plank,  and  close  behind  two  little  children,  with  eyes 
like  the  sky  and  hair  like  the  sun,  wrapped  in  white 
doeskin,  lying  in  the  arms  of  two  giant  retainers,  —  -  Tom 
Linklater  and  Jean  Baptiste  Jollibois.  Pierre  Legacie 
had  his  arms  full  of  bundles. 

"But  little  Jane  and  Sarah?"  The  weather-beaten 
trader  looked  around  almost  in  fright. 

"  I  leaf  them  to  attent  the  school  with  Dogtor 
MagLoughlin,"  explained  the  Madame.  "  More  teachers 
haf  come,  ant  women." 

"  Thank  God,  their  lives  may  be  spared,  even  if  we 
perish.  But  hasten!  these  Indians  are  drifting  back 
from  the  hills." 

Up  through  forests  of  totems  and  seas  of  Asiatic  faces, 
with  knots  of  long,  lank  hair  tied  in  a  bunch  on  the  top 
of  their  heads,  came  the  trader  'and  his  family  to  the 
shelter  of  the  flanking  bastions.  The  huge  spruce  gate 
opened  and  shut  with  a  bang.  On  the  last  night  of  the 
year  1836  the  Madame  was  at  home  at  Fort  Simpson. 


90  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 


XIII 

"  WHITE   WOMEN!    WHITE   AS   SNOW!" 

SIXTY  men  in  nine  boats  was  the  brigade  that  set 
out  for  the  Upper  Columbia  in  that  shining  Summer 
of  '36.  Wyeth  was  gone,  the  "  Beaver "  had 
come,  and  the  world  looked  fair  for  the  fur  trader. 

"  Do  you  know,  man,  that  we  have  discovered  gold 
at  Colville?"  was  the  confidential  word  of  Archibald 
McDonald  to  Ogden  as  their  paddles  beat  in  the  Summer 
sun.  "  Gold !  and  what  do  you  think  their  Honors  said 
when  I  sent  the  news  to  London  ?  " 

The  two  traders  were  sitting  side  by  side  in  a  great 
bateau  laden  with  merchandise.  Their  long  black  locks 
commingled  in  the  Summer  wind,  and  their  piercing  eyes 
faced  each  other. 

"  Don't  —  want  —  gold,  —  but  —  furs !  "  deliberately 
Ogden  measured  out  the  words,  for  well  he  knew  his 
Company. 

"  Exactly."  McDonald's  firm-set  lips  expressed  im 
patience. 

"  I  knew  it,"  continued  Ogden.  "  But  can  this  last 
forever?  The  Americans  are  looking  this  way,  and 
when  they  find  out  — 

"  They  will  take  the  continent."  McDonald's  tone 
almost  expressed  approval. 

"  Can  they?  Will  this  ever  become  a  settled  country? 
Think  of  the  deserts  that  lie  between,  think  of  the  hard 
ships  that  we  as  traders  bear.  Think  you  colonists  could 
survive  the  ordeal?  " 

Often  by  the  campfire  these  questions  were  pondered 
by  the  traders.  McDonald  touched  a  new  key.  "  Of 
course  you  know  that  smallpox  broke  out  last  year  and 
our  whole  tribe  of  Okanogans  perished  ?  Only  nine  sur 
vive.  And  this  year  its  ravages  continue  among  the 


"WHITE   WOMEN!    WHITE   AS    SNOW!"   91 

Palouses,  killing  off  what  were  left  after  the  fever  and 
ague." 

"  Lord,  McDonald,  you  are  as  good  as  a  Columbia 
River  Herald,  printed  daily,  new  editions  wet  from  the 
press.  Now,  putting  two  and  two  together,  does  n't  it 
look  as  if  the  country  might  be  in  preparation  for  a 
coming  race?  But  I  prefer  the  old  order.  John  Work, 
now,  mourns  for  civilization ;  I  love  the  wilderness,  nor 
would  I  exchange  my  dry  salmon  for  all  the  viands  of 
my  father's  house,  and  he  the  Chief  Justice  of  Canada 
at  that." 

"  Yes,"  quickly  responded  McDonald,  "  but  you  are 
of  Canada,  —  a  part  of  the  new  world,  —  and  we  are 
of  Scotland,  and  think  of  her  schools.  My  dream  is  like 
that  of  John  Work,  —  to  die  in  the  confines  of  civilized 
life." 

"  Not  here,  then,  not  here,"  replied  Ogden.  "  These 
are  our  halcyon  days,  —  no  taxes,  no  money,  no  sheriff, 
no  judge,  no  jury.  The  nearest  court  of  justice  is  two 
thousand  miles  away.  You  are  autocrat  at  Fort  Colville, 
with  servants,  clerks,  artisans,  interpreters,  and  a  swarm 
of  Indian  domestics ;  a  great  distributing  point,  —  store 
houses  bursting  with  furs,  skins,  merchandise,  brigades 
twice  a  year  of  fifty  men  each,  eight  or  nine  boats  loaded 
to  the  gun'ls  with  more  than  gold.  All  the  inland  trails 
centre  with  you,  Archibald  McDonald;  to  you  come  the 
nations  with  packhorses  almost  hidden  under  loads  of 
beaver,  otter,  mink,  and  lynx,  ahd  buffalo  humps,  and 
hides  and  tongues.  The  royal  fish  of  the  Columbia  is 
yours  for  the  taking,  and  the  nations  are  yours  for  the 
ruling.  Man,  the  fur  trader,  is  King  in  this  country,  his 
fort  is  his  castle,  and  you,  sitting  here  on  the  Upper 
Columbia,  are  perpetuating  the  glory  of  the  old  clan 
McDonald.  You,  a  descendant  of  the  ancient  kings  of 
Scotland,  are  King  here  in  this  new  world,  in  your  own 
right.  What  better  could  you  ask?  And  I,  another 
monarch  of  the  wild,  am  journeying  to  my  own  realm 
at  Fort  St.  James  on  Stuart  Lake.  When  I  leave  these 
boats  and  take  to  my  horses,  and  my  long  train  winds 
up  the  New  Caledonian  hillsides,  I  fancy  myself  coming 


92  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

home  to  my  subjects.  The  Indians  flock  to  greet  me. 
We  are  living1  again  the  days  that  Scott  depicts  in  '  The 
Lady  of  the  Lake/  and  '  Ivanhoe.'  ' 

Could  McDonald's  poetic  mind  have  overlooked  these 
things  ?  —  he  who  had  sung  Gaelic  songs  from  his  cradle 
and  vaunted  the  clan  McDonald.  But  he  shook  his  head. 
"  After  all,  Mr.  Ogden,  there  is  another  view  to  this 
picture.  Do  you  remember  when  Lord  Selkirk  went 
out  with  me  to  engage  settlers  for  Red  River?  Scotland 
was  crowded,  the  race  needed  room ;  but  '  Nay,'  said  the 
good  Scotch  mithers,  '  we  '11  never  go  until  Lord  Selkirk 
promises  all  the  tea  we  want.'  Now,  tea  was  out  of  ques 
tion;  the  East  India  Company  had  a  monopoly  on  tea. 
'  Tea ! '  roared  Lord  Selkirk,  '  tea,  madame !  why,  tea 
grows  out  there ! '  So  the  good  Scotch  housewives  came 
to  Red  River  lured  by  the  promise  of  Labrador  tea.  But 
what  promise  can  lure  civilized  women  to  Oregon  ?  " 

"  The  love  of  Lochinvar,"  solemnly  replied  the  fur 
trader. 

That  night  as  the  traders  camped  at  Fort  Walla  Walla, 
to  their  utter  astonishment  Lochinvar  and  his  bride  did 
come  riding  out  of  the  mountains  with  Tom  McKay, 
the  trader. 

"  And,  pray,  who  are  these?  " 

Tom  McKay  bowed  with  the  grace  of  a  courtier. 
"  Permit  me,  gentlemen,  to  introduce  Dr.  Marcus  Whit 
man  and  his  wife  Narcissa,  the  first  white  woman  to 
cross  the  Rocky  Mountains  overland  to  the  Columbia. 
Three  days  behind  them  follow  Henry  Spaulding  and 
his  wife  Eliza,  under  the  convoy  of  our  pack  train." 

If  an  angel  had  fallen  out  of  heaven  the  traders  could 
not  have  been  more  startled  than  at  this  apparition  of 
the  golden-haired,  blue-eyed  wife  of  a  missionary  in  a 
trading  fort.  Young,  fair,  charmed  by  all  she  saw,  Mrs. 
Whitman  left  an  indelible  impression  on  the  hearts  of 
Peter  Skeen  Ogden  and  Archibald  McDonald.  "  My 
father  met  them  first,"  said  Ranald  long  years  after,  and 
the  last  gift  on  earth  to  Narcissa  Whitman  was  from  the 
hand  of  her  grizzled  admirer,  Ogden.  Before  the  traders 
separated  —  one  to  Fort  Colville,  and  the  other  to  his 


RANALD    GOES    TO    RED    RIVER          93 

New  Caledonian  post  —  Indian  couriers  were  speeding 
the  word  from  the  Nez  Perce  to  the  Spokane  land  and 
Okanogan,  — "  White  women  have  come,  white  as 
snow !  " 

"The  problem  is  already  solved,"  said  the  traders; 
"  where  these  have  led  others  will  follow." 

At  the  porter's  lodge  over  the  gate  Ranald  was  watch 
ing  when  his  father's  boat  touched  Colville.  All  day  he 
had  been  there,  with  Kamiakin.  In  a  trice  he  was  down 
to  the  water.  The  Chief  Factor  looked  keenly  at  his  son. 
"  How  tall  the  lad  is  grown,  noo !  More  missionaries 
hae  come,  Ranald,  more  missionaries,  and  women !  The 
Nez  Perces,  headed  by  Chief  Lawyer,  went  oot  to  the 
mountains  to  bring  them  in,  and  the  Indians  are  daft  for 
schools.  And  shall  I,  a  McDonald,  permit  my  children 
to  grow  up  in  ignorance  ?  Nay,  wi'  the  '  Despatch  '  one 
of  these  days,  Ranald,  I  must  send  ye  to  St.  John's,  at 
Red  River." 


XIV 
RANALD   GOES   TO   RED   RIVER 

DULL  and  uneventful  were  the  days  at  Fort  Colville 
in  the  heart  of  the  Indian  country,  with  never  a 
glimpse  of  a  white  man  save  when  the  spring 
"  Despatch  "  or  the  autumn  "  Fur  Brigade  "  passed  the 
post.  And  yet,  the  days  were  happy  to  Ranald,  "  the 
happiest  of  my  life,"  he  said  in  later  years.  In  a  little 
world  of  their  own,  singularly  isolate  from  the  haunts 
of  men,  like  a  Highland  chief  surrounded  by  his  clan, 
Archibald  McDonald  lived  with  his  wife  and  children. 
Now  and  then  an  Indian  with  furs  on  his  pony  slid  into 
the  trading  gate,  purchased  his  little  merchandise,  and 
disappeared ;  the  hamlet  within  the  stockade  had  its 
nightly  assemblage  for  song  and  story,  but  in  the  main 


94  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Colville  was  as  earth  primeval,  silent,  serene,  and  dream 
ful.  Before  the  adobe  fireplace,  oval  of  back,  narrow, 
deep,  and  high,  with  crackling  logs  on  end  snapping  and 
sparkling,  sat  the  Chief  Factor  on  winter  nights,  telling 
his  retainers  glorious  tales  of  the  McDonalds,  Clanronald, 
Glengarry,  and  Keppoch.  The  firelight  played  on  his 
face,  Ranald  sat  at  his  knee,  the  little  boys  hid  their 
heads  on  their  mother's  lap,  and  the  great  hall  of  Colville 
was  populous  with  shadows. 

"  Of  all  the  clans  are  not  the  McDonalds,  by  every 
rule  of  antiquity,  power,  and  numbers,  entitled  to  be 
spoken  of  before  any  other?"  McDonald  was  wont  to 
begin.  "  Why,  the  first  McDonald  did  more  to  free  his 
country  of  the  Danes  and  Norwegians  than  any  other 
one  whatever."  And  then  would  follow  long  discursions 
on  the  heroes  of  his  house. 

"  McDonald  had  the  right  wing  at  Bannockburn,  aye, 
lad,"  looking  Ranald  in  the  eye,  "  and  three  McDonald 
regiments  were  in  the  Prince's  first  line  at  Culloden,  but 
they  were  on  the  left  wing,  lad,  the  left  wing;  and  when 
the  headlong  charge  came,  what  d'  ye  think,  lad  ?  They 
refused  to  advance !  Why  ?  Because  the  right  wing  had 
ever  been  their  post  since  Bannockburn,  and  so,  Mc 
Donald  of  Keppoch  advanced  to  the  charge  alone.  He 
looked  back.  '  My  God ! '  he  cried,  '  my  God !  have  the 
children  of  my  tribe  forsaken  me  ?  '  Never  before  in 
Highland  history  had  the  McDonalds  failed  to  lead  the 
right  wing. 

"  Keppoch  was  indeed  brave,"  with  pride  McDonald 
would  go  on,  poking  the  log  fire  until  sparks  flew  out 
of  the  chimney ;  "  he  refused  to  get  regular  charters  for 
his  lands  from  England.  '  No,'  said  Keppoch,  '  I  shall 
ne'er  have  lands  that  I  cannot  hold  otherwise  than  by 
a  sheep's  hide.  My  deed  of  title  shall  be  my  trusty  clay 
more,'  shaking  aloft  the  glittering  steel.  But  the  day 
came  when  the  claymore  would  not  avail,  and  Keppoch 
lost  all  his  lands.  Think  you  these  Columbia  lands  will 
ever  be  cut  up  with  deeds  and  titles?  " 

The  Chief  Factor  paused;  Colville  stood  in  prairies 
untouched  as  yet  by  men  or  nations.  The  caribou 


RANALD    GOES    TO    RED    RIVER          95 

browsed  unchased,  the  elk  hid  in  the  woody  hollows, 
the  Indian  pitched  his  nomad  hut,  and  the  circle  of 
mountains  cast  their  shadows  on  a  land  without  a  title, 
—  for  England  or  America.  Which  would  take  it  ? 

But  especially  proud  of  his  own  branch  was  the  sturdy 
Scot,  the  McDonalds  of  Glencoe.  Lineally  descended 
from  the  Lords  of  the  Isles  and  from  the  royal  family, 
the  branch  of  Glencoe  claimed  the  lead  of  all  McDonalds, 
and  old  Fort  Colville  rang  with  their  Highland  music: 

"  Gather,  bold  clan  Donuil, 

Come  with  haversack  and  cord ; 
Come  not  late  with  meal  and  cake, 

But  come  with  dirk,  and  gun,  and  sword. 
Down  to  the  Lowlands, 

Plenty  bides  by  dale  and  burn ; 
Gather,  brave  clan  Donuil, 

Riches  wait  on  your  return." 

"  Ah !  Oregon,  ma  lad,  is  anither  Scotland.  Nearly 
every  clan  finds  its  badge  growing  on  Oregon  hillsides, — 
oak  and  myrtle,  fern  and  hazel,  the  wild  thyme  and  sun 
flower,  the  fir,  the  lily,  and  the  holly,  —  and  it  was  our 
Scots  themselves,  lad,  that  brought  the  broom  to  these 
shores.  It  grows  now  in  thickets,  as  in  the  dells  of 
Glencoe." 

Then  the  hunting  tartan  came  out,  treasured  in  many 
a  heavy  haul  by  hillside  and  river,  the  last  relic  of  the 
old  Scottish  time.  "  Dyed,  by  me>  own  mither,  lad,  with 
roots  and  barks  of  Glencoe."  No  wonder  a  certain  pride 
lifted  the  brow  of  Ranald  McDonald;  he  had  long  been 
a  prince  among  the  Indians,  —  he  felt  now  a  prince  among 
the  whites. 

It  was  two  years  since  James  Douglas,  facing  the  icy 
wind,  crossed  country  from  Spokane  House  to  Fort  Col 
ville  with  a  small  mounted  party,  cutting  off  the  big 
bend  of  the  Columbia,  while  the  slow  boats  came  on  by 
water.  That  was  the  year  when  he  took  Dominick 
Pambrun  to  Red  River;  in  the  hall  at  Colville  they 
brewed  warm  drinks  about  the  fireplace,  —  Jamaica  rum 
and  ginger,  —  to  thaw  out  the  frozen  Douglas.  In  the 


96  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

cumbrous  fur-cushioned  armchairs  they  sat,  chatting  in 
the  firelight,  with  guns  and  deer-horns  on  the  wall,  pre 
cisely  as  their  forebears  had  chatted  in  Highland  castles 
a  hundred  years  before.  All  these  Scots  had  fought  and 
fared  together,  captives  had  they  been  and  comrades; 
Douglas  castle  and  Dunvegan  had  their  fathers  stormed 
or  succored,  and  now,  to  their  sons,  a  new  world  gave 
theatre  for  valor.  It  was  almost  time  for  the  annual 
"  Despatch." 

"  And  this  year,  ma  lad,  it  is  your  turn,"  said  the 
Factor  to  Ranald  by  the  firelight.  "  Duncan  Finlayson 
will  soon  be  along  on  his  way  to  the  annual  council  at 
Norway  House.  A  thousand  miles  you  may  have  to 
tramp  on  snowshoes,  but  ye  are  a  sturdy  lad,  noo,  Ranald, 
and  able  for  the  journey.  Are  the  lad's  clathes  ready, 
Jeannie?  " 

All  was  ready.  A  score  of  domestics  had  the  Madame, 
ready  at  her  beck,  —  Indian  cooks,  dairymen,  kitchen  gar 
deners,  and  women  to  sew;  Indian  nurse-girls  attended 
the  children,  Indian  boys  swept  the  walks  and  brought 
the  water,  wearing  a  deep  trail  down  to  the  river. 

"  The  '  Despatch  ' !   the  '  Despatch  ' !  " 

With  a  pang  Madame  McDonald  heard  the  call  when 
Finlayson's  paddle-boats  broke  the  silence.  Ranald's  little 
casette  was  packed  with  linen,  and  a  basket  of  biscuits, 
butter,  and  pickled  tongue  was  ready  to  go  along  with 
Finlayson's  "  kitchen  "  of  tinned  vegetables  and  sugar, 
topped  by  the  frying-pan,  "  strong  enough  to  batter  down 
a  gate,"  with  a  hinge  in  the  handle  to  fold  out  of  the 
way  in  the  packed  paddle-boat.  The  gentlemen  proceed 
ing  from  Vancouver  to  Norway  House  in  charge  of ^  the 
Columbia  accounts  generally  remained  at  Colville  eight 
or  ten  days,  to  put  a  finishing  touch  to  those  accounts, 
but  long  before  the  ten  days  were  up  Ranald  had  bidden 
farewell  to  every  domestic  in  the  kitchen,  to  every  laborer 
on  the  farm,  and  especially  to  his  most  intimate  friend, 
Frangois  Rivet,  the  Frenchman  who  came  with  Lewis 
and  Clark.  Old  Rivet  was  a  keen  American  at  heart, 
one  of  the  boys  of  Cahokia  who  had  seen  the  conquest 
of  Illinois  and  the  cession  of  St.  Louis.  Many  an  odd 


RANALD    GOES    TO    RED    RIVER          97 

hour  had  he  spent  with  Ranald,  relating  the  glories  of  that 
former  time,  and  of  the  journey  of  the  great  explorers, 

"  Dis  weel  be  deir  coountry,  Ranald,  and  you  weel  be 
one  Americain,"  said  the  old  Frenchman,  "  for  you  was 
been  born  at  Astoria  under  de  flag." 

"  Keep  praying,  David ;  do  not  forget  your  God,"  had 
been  McLoughlin's  last  word  to  his  son,  as  now  it  was 
McDonald's  to  Ranald,  for  deepest  of  all  in  the  heart 
of  the  Scot  was  a  sense  of  duty  and  responsibility. 
"  Remember  the  Glencoe  motto,  Ranald,  '  I  put  my  trust 
in  Thee.'  ' 

"  And  don't  forget  me,"  was  the  Madame's  word  as 
she  kissed  the  son  of  the  Princess  Sunday.  Twelve 
children  Jane  Klyne  bore  to  Archibald  McDonald,  but 
ever  she  seemed  to  love  Ranald  best,  —  or  was  this  a 
conceit  of  his  own  responsive  heart? 

On  that  horizon  rimmed  with  pines  Ranald  looked  his 
last  for  many  a  day ;  the  old  fort  with  its  weather-beaten 
stockade  stood  out  like  a  cameo,  and  the  face  of  his 
father,  keen-cut  and  white  with  suppressed  emotion. 
Just  then  out  of  the  hills  galloped  Kamiakin,  waving  his 
feathered  crest  in  a  long  farewell. 

'  Tak  good  care  of  ma  lad,  Duncan  Finlayson,  and 
bring  him  there  safe,"  quavered  McDonald  in  broken 
voice,  as  the  boat-song  struck,  and  the  bark,  at  one 
stroke,  shot  into  the  future.  They  were  gone,  and  there 
was  sadness  at  Colville. 

Many  a  time  Ranald  had  been1  down  the  Columbia, 
but  never  before  up,  into  that  wild  so  often  discussed 
around  the  banquet  boards  of  the  trading  forts.  Duncan 
Finlayson  was  the  kindliest  man  in  the  world,  and  more 
than  kind  to  his  youthful  charge,  the  thirteen-year-old 
son  of  Archibald  McDonald.  They  sat  in  the  same  boat, 
slept  under  the  same  robe,  and  ate  at  the  same  table, 
apart  from  the  voyageurs. 

"  Ah,  here  we  are  at  the  Arrow  Lakes,"  he  said  one 
day.  "  Rest,  lads ;  have  a  spell  and  a  smoke  at  this  place." 
High  above  arose  a  perpendicular  wall  of  rock,  with 
clusters  of  arrows  embedded  in  holes  or  hollows  thirty 
feet  up. 

7 


98  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"Would  you  like  some  of  the  arrows,  Ranald?"  he 
inquired  of  the  boy  in  Chinook. 

"  Yes,  I  should  like  to  see  to  what  tribe  they 
belonged." 

Finlayson  fired  his  double-barrelled  gun,  bringing  down 
a  shower.  The  voyageurs  ran,  —  old  men  experienced 
in  Indian  arrows,  the  two  Moniques,  and  Bernard,  famous 
boatmen  in  their  day,  —  scrutinizing,  as  they  picked  them 
up,  the  kind  of  wood,  the  cut  of  the  feathers,  and  even 
the  sinews,  the  number  of  turns  it  took  to  secure  the 
feathers;  but,  experts  as  they  were,  they  gave  it  up, 
handing  the  curios  to  Ranald. 

"  Souvenirs  of  old  battles  long  before  our  day,"  re 
marked  Finlayson ;  "  invaders,  perhaps,  of  the  Upper  Co 
lumbia,  and  the  victors,  having  no  use  for  the  foeman's 
arrows,  shot  them  into  those  holes  to  commemorate  the 
field  of  battle."  The  "  Despatch  "  sped  on. 

Caching  their  canoe  and  lacing  great  snowshoes  upon 
their  feet,  every  man  and  boy,  laden  to  the  utmost,  strode 
through  the  dim  dark  Athabasca  Pass,  between  Mounts 
Brown  and  Hooker,  and  came  down  to  Jasper  House, 
the  old  home  of  Ranald's  stepmother,  Jane  Klyne.  Colin 
Fraser,  the  Highland  piper,  ruled  there  now  with  his 
Cree  wife,  snowed  up  some  years  to  the  very  roof  under 
the  edge  of  the  mountains. 

When  Douglas  and  Dominick  Pambrun  passed  that 
way  two  years  before,  gone  were  the  mountain  goats, 
the  moose  were  out  of  sight,  and  the  wood  buffalo,  fleet, 
shy,  and  accustomed  to  most  inaccessible  trails,  had  moved 
to  the  south.  Reaching  the  Athabasca,  Douglas  had 
found  it  impassable  with  ice;  provisions  were  out;  he 
had  been  compelled  to  camp  and  send  men  to  hunt.  No 
kettle  bubbled  on  the  fire ;  hunger  gnawed  at  their  vitals ; 
the  hunters  did  not  come,  but  the  quick  ear  of  Dominick, 
born  to  the  wild,  caught  a  sound. 

"  Mr.  Douglas,  Mr.  Douglas,  I  hear  a  pheasant 
drumming;  let  me  go  out  and  shoot." 

"  No,  boy;    it  would  frighten  the  game  away." 

Still  the  pheasant  drummed,  and  still  the  boy  be 
sought  permission.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  "  Yes,"  said 


RANALD    GOES    TO    RED    RIVER          99 

Douglas ;  "  the  men  are  too  far  away  to  hear.  You 
may  go." 

Gladly  Dominick  had  gone  forth.  He  heard  a  crack 
ling  in  a  bush ;  he  hid,  and  a  moose  came  by.  The  little 
gun  was  loaded  only  with  goose  shot,  but  he  fired,  and 
with  a  second  shot  brought  down  the  moose.  Fast  as 
feet  could  fly,  Dominick  ran  to  tell  the  news. 

Douglas  eyed  him  sternly.  "  Boy !  this  is  no  time  to 
make  sport !  " 

"  But  I  have  killed  a  moose,  Mr.  Douglas,  I  have 
killed  a  moose!  Come  and  see!" 

Distrustful  still,  Douglas  finally  consented,  and  lo!  a 
moose  lay  dead  upon  the  shining  snow.  Astonished, 
delighted,  repeatedly  the  Douglas  cried,  "  My  boy !  my 
boy!  you  have  saved  my  men!  I  will  always  remember 
you !  "  and  he  did,  never  refusing  Dominick  Pambrun 
any  favor  to  the  day  of  his  death. 

But  that  was  two  years  ago.  This  year  open  water 
ways  led  Finlayson  and  Ranald  on  up  to  Fort  Edmon 
ton,  where  Chief  Factor  John  Rowan,  the  Prairie  Chief, 
ruled  the  north  Saskatchewan.  Above  the  battlemented 
gateway  there  hung  an  emblem  of  trouble. 

"  Smallpox,"  explained  Chief  Factor  Rowan  to  the 
trader  from  Oregon.  Finlayson  recognized  it  as  the 
same  scourge  that  had  swept  out  the  Okanogans,  passed 
up  into  Vancouver  Island,  Fort  Simpson,  and  to  the 
Russian  settlements,  no  one  knew  how  far.  "  And  how 
came  it  here?  " 

"  I  have  traced  it  to  the  Missouri,"  answered  Mr. 
Rowan.  "  An  Indian  stole  a  blanket  infected  with  small 
pox  from  a  steamboat  on  the  upper  Missouri.  I  hear 
that  Fort  Union  is  paralyzed.  The  Arricarees  are  wiped 
out,  the  Mandans  are  dead,  the  Blackfeet  were  fleeing 
in  terror,  when  our  rascally  Assiniboines  went  down  there 
and  stole  their  horses.  Of  course  that  brought  the 
contagion  here;  but  I  have  vaccinated  the  whole  Cree 
tribe !  " 

Into  the  midst  of  the  vaccination  Finlayson  had  come, 
and  among  the  Crees  was  —  Jemmy  Jock !  Ranald 
started :  "  Is  this  Jemmy  Jock  that  killed  one  of  Captain 


ioo  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Wyeth's    men?      The    Americans    offered    five   hundred 
dollars  for  his  head !  " 

"  Hush !  hush !  hush !  "  hurriedly  whispered  the 
traders,  stopping  Ranald's  mouth.  "  This  man  is  Tames 
Bird." 

'  Yes,  I  know.  James  Bird  is  Jemmy  Jock.  I  thought 
he  was  dead !  "  persisted  Ranald,  transfixed  with  a  cer 
tain  admiration  as  he  gazed  upon  that  splendid  specimen 
of  a  man,  the  son  of  a  Hudson  Bay  trader  who  had 
broken  with  the  Company  and  fled  to  his  Cree  relatives. 
Educated  in  England,  fair  almost  as  a  white  man,  with 
beautiful  raven  hair  that  hung  in  ringlets  around  his 
shoulders,  the  renegade  looked  indeed  equal  to  any  wild 
tale  that  was  told  around  the  campfires. 

Jemmy  Jock,  synonym  for  plunder,  roamed  among  the 
Sioux,  Assiniboines,  Crees,  and  Blackfeet,  with  a  family 
in  each,  and  whatever  tribe  he  headed  was  victor  in 
battle.  Jemmy  Jock  planned,  warriors  executed;  even 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company  feared  him,  and  annually  paid 
a  certain  sum  in  goods  to  court  his  favor.  And  here  he 
was,  bringing  in  the  Crees  for  vaccination!  for  no  one 
persuaded  like  Jemmy  Jock.  Rob  Roy  of  the  Montanas, 
as  far  south  as  Snake  River  he  plundered,  attacking  in 
later  years  the  emigrant  highway. 

But  Finlayson  sped  on,  on,  leaving  the  Prairie  Chief 
and  Jemmy  Jock,  frightened  Crees  and  howling  dogs, 
behind  in  the  five-sided  fort  on  the  North  Saskatchewan, 
where  sixty  years  later  Americans  were  to  come  flocking 
in  by  thousands  to  settle  at  Edmonton.  Swiftly  down 
the  shining  river,  through  fertile  prairies  level  as  a  floor, 
destined  to  be  densely  populated,  they  came  to  Norway 
House,  at  the  head  of  Lake  Winnipeg.  Behind  and 
beyond,  brigade  after  brigade  came  sweeping  in,  bearing 
the  furs  of  half  a  continent. 

The  Governor's  flag  fluttered  from  Norway  House. 
Within  sat  the  great  ones,  —  Sir  George  Simpson,  part 
ners,  burgeois,  and  shareholders;  outside  the  servants 
trembled,  for  where  might  not  be  sent  the  shiftless  or 
unpopular  ?  Labrador,  Athabasca,  Oregon,  —  these  were 
points  of  exile.  But  away  from  the  bustle  and  worry 


A    THOUSAND    AMERICANS  ro-i 

of  it  all,  Ranald  was  borne  across  the  lake  to  the  set 
tlement  around  Fort  Garry,  Lone  Star  of  the  North, 
the  centre  of  civilization  and  Christianity  for  the  fur 
traders. 


XV 

A  THOUSAND   AMERICANS 

"  T~ >ORT  NISQUALLY  —  " 

M  "What's  that?"  The  lightning  flash  of  Dr. 
JL  McLoughlin's  eye  almost  paralyzed  an  Indian 
runner  at  the  gates  of  Fort  Vancouver.  "  What 's  that, 
I  say?" 

"  Fort  Nisqually  taken,  all  killed,"  wildly  gesticulated 
the  Indian. 

"When?" 

"  Yesterday." 

"  Zounds,  sir !  This  is  an  Indian  fabrication.  Fort 
Nisqually  is  two  hundred  miles  away.  In  case  it  were 
attacked  yesterday,  it  would  be  impossible  for  you  to 
get  the  word  to-day." 

"  All  say  so,"  insisted  the  red  man. 

"  Baptiste,  bring  me  another  Indian." 

In  a  few  moments  the  Frenchman  returned  with  a 
Cowlitz  just  arriving  for  trade. 

"What  news  from  Fort  Nisqually?" 

"  Fort  taken,  all  dead,"  came  the  quick  reply. 

"  How  many  people  were  there?  " 

The  correct  answer  was  given,  with  their  various 
occupations. 

By  this  time  the  surprised  Chief  Factor  was  fully 
aroused.  Orders  flew  thick  about  the  court.  "  Send  a 
runner  for  Tom  McKay.  Bring  old  Moneycoon." 

But  Moneycoon  and  all  other  Indians  reported  alike. 
At  Wakanisissi,  six  miles  below  Vancouver,  Tom  McKay 
had  burned  the  abandoned  lodge  of  Chief  Keasno,  and 


MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

set  up  there  a  wheat  and  cattle  ranch  on  the  site  of  the 
deserted  Indian  village.  In  the  midst  of  his  harvest  he 
hastened  to  Vancouver.  The  Doctor  met  him. 

"  Tom,  from  what  these  Indians  say  there  must  be 
trouble  on  the  Sound.  I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  call 
on  you  again." 

"  That  is  unfortunate !  "  The  ex-Hudson  Bay  hunter 
leaped  from  his  horse.  "  I  have  eight  hundred  bushels 
of  wheat  on  the  ground,  and  such  a  force  of  Indians  and 
Kanakas  that  I  hardly  see  how  I  can  leave.  Here,  now, 
comes  a  courier.  He  may  bring  better  news." 

The  Doctor  turned  to  question  Plomondon.  "  Nis- 
qually?  Not  a  word  of  truth  in  it.  I  am  just  from  the 
fort." 

"  Zounds !  you  scoundrels !  you  have  fabricated  this 
alarm." 

Trembling  like  culprits  the  foremost  one  admitted, 
"  We  hope  you  go,  we  take  Vancouver." 

With  an  electric  movement  the  Doctor's  cane  was  on 
his  back.  "  Baptiste,  put  this  entire  crew  in  the  donjon 
for  bringing  false  alarms."  As  the  door  closed  on  them 
McLoughlin  turned  to  Dr.  Tolmie,  the  "  Tcnas  Doctor," 
-  the  "  Little  Doctor,"  as  the  Indians  called  him,  —  who 
had  recently  returned  to  Vancouver. 

"  There  is  something  at  the  bottom  of  all  this,  some 
trouble  brewing  that  may  lead  to  disaster.  The  Indians 
have  been  in  a  ferment  ever  since  Dr.  Whitman,  the 
missionary  at  Walla  Walla,  left  for  the  United  States 
last  Fall.  Some^one  has  told  them  that  he  will  bring 
back  an  army  of  Americans  to  their  lands.  So  excited 
were  the  Upper  Columbia  tribes  that  they  sent  Piopio- 
moxmox  down  here  to  consult  me  about  it.  I  endeavored 
to  allay  the  old  chief's  fears,  but  I  admit  I  am  disturbed 
myself,  considering  the  belligerent  tone  of  some  of  the 
American  papers.  Oregon  is  like  a  tinder-box,  ready 
for  ignition.  Only  by  careful  management  can  we  avert 
most  direful  consequences." 

Well  Dr.  Tolmie  understood  the  situation.  American 
missionaries  had  scattered  at  strategic  points  all  over 
the  country,  —  at  Salem,  Willamette  Falls,  Clatsop,  the 


A   THOUSAND    AMERICANS  103 

Dalles,  Walla  Walla,  and  Spokane.  Already  immigrants 
were  drifting  in,  and  the  lingering,  fateful  fever  was 
still  decimating  the  red  men.  No  wonder  the  natives 
were  disturbed.  Then  Whitman  went  East,  "  to  bring 
an  army,"  said  the  Indians.  Even  the  peaceable  Nez 
Perces  talked  of  going  far  out  into  the  buffalo  country 
to  cut  him  off.  But  Chief  Lawyer  said  "  No." 

Apprehensive  for  the  mission  at  the  Dalles,  Jason  Lee 
had  hastened  up  there  in  the  middle  of  the  Winter.  Chief 
Piopiomoxmox,  with  fifty  warriors,  journeyed  down  a 
hundred  miles  to  meet  him. 

"  Do  you  wish  peace  or  war  ?  "  demanded  the  stern 
old  chief.  "  What  will  be  the  effect  of  so  many 
Americans  in  this  country?" 

"  That  will  depend  upon  yourselves,"  answered  Jason 
Lee.  "  If  you  imitate  our  industry  and  adopt  our  habits, 
your  people  will  have  things  as  well  as  we.  Our  hands 
are  our  wealth.  You  and  your  people  have  hands ;  you 
have  only  to  use  them  in  order  to  gain  property.  Watch 
the  Americans  arriving,  entirely  destitute ;  in  a  few  years 
they  will  have  horses  and  cattle  and  houses,  the  fruits 
of  their  own  labor." 

An  Indian  outbreak  then  could  have  swept  the  Ameri 
cans  from  the  Columbia;  but  Piopiomoxmox  went  back, 
soothed  and  satisfied.  Not  so  the  Americans.  Driven 
by  their  fears,  the  little  handful  of  settlers  met  and  voted, 
fifty-two  against  fifty,  for  an  American  organization  and 
a  provisional  government,  "  for  the  civil  and  military 
protection  of  this  colony." 

"  These  Americans  certainly  do  exhibit  a  singular 
facility  for  self-government,"  Dr.  Tolmie  admitted,  when 
trappers  and  traders  came  hastening  with  the  news  to 
Vancouver. 

"  Haf  not  Canadian  law  been  extended  here  by  one 
act  of  de  Parliament?"  an  old  voyageur  wanted  to 
know.  "  Dot  is  enough.  Why  dose  Yankee  turn  de 
world?" 

But  even  Canadians  were  going  over  to  the  Americans, 
and  the  Great  Company  seemed  inevitably  slipping  into 
the  compact,  "  to  adopt  laws  and  regulations  until  such 


104  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

time  as  the  United  States  shall  extend  their  jurisdiction 
over  us."  And  yet,  all  told,  there  were  not  two  hundred 
Americans  west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Strange  and 
direful  rumors  circulated  among  the  red  men,  encour 
aged  more  or  less  by  mischievous  servants  of  the  great 
fur  company.  "  Dey  will  take  de  country.  You  will 
haf  no  place,"  and  now  came  this  Nisqually  alarm.  : 

"  'T  is  well  you  are  on  hand  to  take  charge  over  there," 
the  Doctor  veered  to  Tolmie  with  an  air  of  relief.  "  As 
representative  of  this  new  Puget  Sound  Agricultural 
Company  you  will  have  a  free  hand.  Angus  McDonald 
is  there  now,  a  lad  caught  poaching  on  the  land  of  a 
Scottish  laird  and  haled  before  the  court.  Sir  George 
Simpson  heard  of  it :  *  Turn  the  lad  o'er  to  me.  I  can 
gi'  him  hunting  enough  ' ;  and  to  us  he  was  sent,  a  re 
cruit  of  the  Company.  Here  is  an  order  for  him  to 
transfer  the  fort  to  you,  and  report  here  when  you  are 
done  with  him." 

"McDonald?  What,  Angus,  the  Highlander,  the 
nephew  of  Archibald  of  Colville?  I  knew  the  lad  well, 
-  the  son  of  a  Scotch  dominie,  who  taught  his  son  Gaelic 
and  Latin." 

"  Yes,  yes,  a  good  man,  but  Nisqually  is  now  the  most 
important  fort  north  of  the  Columbia.  A  strong  post, 
with  upwards  of  sixty  whites,  Kanakas,  and  Indians,  it 
needs  an  experienced  hand.  I  am  disposed  to  believe 
that  the  Sound  will  be  our  next  headquarters,  for  the 
Columbia  River  will  undoubtedly  be  the  international 
boundary." 

Ten  years  had  passed  since  that  May  when  Archibald 
McDonald  and  Dr.  Tolmie  went  over  to  rear  the  first 
white  habitation  on  Puget  Sound,  ten  years  in  which 
Dr.  Tolmie  had  traversed  the  wilds  of  the  Northwest 
as  one  of  the  Company's  most  intelligent  and  useful 
factors.  Since  that  year,  when  as  a  youth  of  twenty- 
one  he  had  come  into  the  sickness  at  Vancouver,  Dr. 
Tolmie  had  made  the  rounds  of  all  the  forts,  had  studied 
Indians,  learned  their  tongues,  and  now  might  well  be 
listed  with  the  "  experienced." 

After  a  year's  furlough  in  his  old  Scottish  home,  the 


A    THOUSAND    AMERICANS  105 

still  youthful  and  ardent  fur-trading  Doctor  was  back 
to  the  Columbia,  and  to  the  memory  of  a  sunny-haired 
girl  he  had  met  as  a  child  at  Vancouver. 

"  Where  is  she  now  ?  " 

Dr.  McLoughlin  smiled;  he  had  already  guessed  the 
Scotchman's  thought. 

"  No,  she  is  not  here.  The  Madame  \vas  down  and 
carried  both  girls  to  Fort  Simpson." 

Under  his  own  eyes  Jane  and  Sarah  Work  had  blos 
somed  into  maidenhood  at  Vancouver,  and  then  at  Jason 
Lee's  mission  in  the  valley.  Many  a  gallop  had  Tolmie 
taken  thither,  —  once,  for  lack  of  a  boat,  he  swam  the 
Willamette,  as  Leander  swam  the  Hellespont,  "  to  see 
the  lassie  that  he  lo'ed  best,"  in  that  never-to-be-forgotten 
Summer  when  McLoughlin  sent  him  to  buy  wheat  for 
the  Russians. 

Then  came  the  home-flight  to  Scotland;  but  nowhere 
in  all  his  wanderings  had  Tolmie  discovered  a  maid  more 
to  his  fancy  than  the  little  wild  flower  that  grew  in  the 
wheat  at  the  Oregon  mission.  But  she  was  gone  now, 
far  into  the  Northern  sea,  and  he  must 'go  to  Nisqually 
in  this  July  of  '43. 

The  blue-green  grass  of  Nisqually  plains  billowed  like 
a  sea  in  the  Summer  wind  as  William  Fraser  Tolmie, 
with  Plomondon  at  his  side,  came  riding  back  to  his 
wooden  castle  on  Puget  Sound.  Before,  behind,  five 
snowy  peaks  -  -  Baker,  Rainier,  St.  Helens,  Hood,  and 
Adams  —  swam  in  the  Summer  hatze,  with  streamers  of 
mist  from  their  cleft  cones  as  if  craters  were  smoking 
there.  There  was  a  gala  night  in  the  big  old  hall  of 
the  fort.  Angus  McDonald  had  them  all  a-dancing,  - 
Charlefoux,  Plomondon,  McLeod,  the  head  shepherd, 
voyageurs,  Canadians,  clerks,  —  all  in  honor  of  the  Chief 
Factor's  arrival  and  his  own  retirement.  "  For  now  I 
can  rove.  I  like  a  tent  better,"  declared  Angus,  pulling 
out  his  hunting  tartan. 

There  was  always  a  Highland  time  where  Angus 
McDonald  was,  —  a  dance  and  boisterous  tales  and 
music,  and  then,  perchance,  he  would  go  to  his  blankets 
in  a  windy  bastion  and  read  his  Bible  half  the  night.  A 


io6  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

poet  was  Angus  McDonald,  and  a  minstrel  after  the  old 
Ossian  order,  never  weary  of  chanting  Gaelic  songs 
improvised  by  himself.  "  The  desert  is  enough  for  me, 
with  all  its  woods  and  deer,"  he  proclaimed  as  he  went 
away  down  the  Cowlitz  to  Fort  Vancouver.  As  he 
passed,  the  shepherds  were  sending  out  their  Indian 
herders  with  bands  of  six  or  seven  hundred  sheep  each, 
browsing  over  the  fenceless  prairies,  wild  and  free  in 
virgin  bloom  and  beauty. 

In  ten  years  the  Company's  flocks  had  spread  from  the 
Nisqually  to  the  Puyallup,  several  thousand  head,  but 
in  feeding  off  the  pastures  they  interfered  with  the  root- 
digging  of  the  Nisquallies,  and  discontent  and  ill  feeling 
ensued.  The  poisoning  of  Indian  dogs  with  wolf  bait 
was  another  cause  of  trouble,  and  sometimes  Indian  dogs 
worrying  the  sheep  were  shot  by  the  shepherds. 

"  There  is  an  Indian  in  irons  in  one  of  the  bastions," 
said  the  clerks  to  Dr.  Tolmie.  "  He  is  suspected  of 
having  fired  at  one  of  the  Sandwich  Island  shepherds 
with  whom  he  had  a  squabble  about  the  killing  of  a 
dog.  Leschi  and  Quiemuth  helped  us  to  capture  him; 
they  are  friends  of  the  white  shepherds." 

No  one  better  could  handle  a  case  like  this  than  Dr. 
Tolmie.  With  hands  on  their  mouths  in  sign  of  surprise, 
hundreds  of  Indians,  taking  a  rest  from  hunting  in  the 
heat  of  Summer,  had  seen  him  come. 

Plomondon  was  excited.  "  Did  you  see  that  beeg 
painted  rascal,  how  he  look  ?  "  Everybody  was  antici 
pating  trouble. 

"  What  manner  of  man  is  this  ?  "  whispered  the  In 
dians.  "Let  us  try  him.  What  is  his  turn  turn  (his 
heart)  toward  us?  "  and  several  came  up  from  their  camps 
on  the  creek  to  call  on  the  new  Chief  Factor. 

Never  to  be  outdone  in  civilities,  "  Bring  me  the 
tobacco,"  demanded  the  Doctor  of  the  expectant  clerks. 
In  great  Brazilian  coils  it  lay,  like  rope,  eighty-four 
pounds  to  the  coil ;  a  yard  would  weigh  a  pound.  Clip, 
clip,  clip  went  the  Doctor's  shears,  four  inches  to  every 
common  Indian,  a  yard  to  every  chief. 

"  Send  for  the  prisoner." 


A   THOUSAND    AMERICANS  107 

In  they  led  him,  manacled  and  fierce,  breathing  hate 
against  the  man  that  killed  his  hunting  dog. 

"What!  Steilacoom,  my  old  friend?"  Dr.  Tolmie 
undid  the  irons.  "  Here,  have  a  gift  of  tobacco.  We 
will  be  close  tillicunis  forever." 

A  smile  broke  through  Indian  wrath.  Steilacoom 
took  the  tobacco  and  went  out,  the  sworn  friend  of  Dr. 
Tolmie.  Such  was  Hudson  Bay  diplomacy,  and  such 
the  explanation  of  much  rotation  in  the  service. 

And  Leschi  came.  Ten  years  ago  Dr.  Tolmie  had 
given  Leschi  his  first  coat  and  hat,  and  still  he  wore  a 
coat  and  hat.  The  gay  Indian  garb  was  for  common 
Indians,  not  for  Leschi.  Well  disposed,  peaceable,  of 
superior  ability,  respected  by  his  tribe  and  arbitrator  of 
their  disputes,  "  Leschi  so  decides,"  generally  ended  the 
troubles.  Small  and  slight,  Leschi  looked  like  a  Japanese. 

"  We  very  old  friends,"  he  said  to  the  Doctor. 

"  Yes,  Leschi,  ever  since  this  fort  was  built." 

As  a  stoker  on  the  steamer  "  Beaver,"  John  McLeod 
had  come  to  Puget  Sound.  Now,  as  head  shepherd,  with 
a  station  on  Steilacoom's  lake,  he  rode  out  with  Dr. 
Tolmie,  showing  the  new  devices  for  carrying  on  the 
Company's  business.  Away  back  to  the  Cascades  ranged 
flocks  and  herds  that  furnished  mutton,  butter,  beef,  and 
cheese  for  the  Russians.  Nisqually  had  become  the  chief 
depot  for  curing  meats  and  loading  vessels  for  Sitka. 
Charlefoux,  too,  rode  with  Dr.  Tolmie  and  the  head 
shepherd.  Most  of  the  voyageurs  calculated  and  cast 
accounts  on  the  tips  of  their  fingers.  Charlefoux  did, 
but  having  been  at  Nisqually  off  and  on  from  the  be 
ginning,  naturally  the  big  Canadian  felt  a  sort  of 
proprietorship  in  the  agricultural  plant  on  Puget  Sound. 

"  How  many  cattle  have  we,  Charlefoux  ?  How  many 
sheep?" 

"  Ah,  zay  ees  innumerable,  tousands  and  tousands,  zay 
covers  all  zis  countree,"  so  vast  were  the  Company's 
resources  in  the  eyes  of  its  subordinates.  "  Sacrc!  No 
man  know !  "  Charlefoux  sometimes  spoke  words  in 
French  that  would  not  look  well  in  English  to  express 
his  exaggeration. 


MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Every  Sunday  the  Company's  flag  floated  from  Fort 
Nisqually,  —  then  clustered  the  red  men  for  a  social 
race.  And  over  the  mountains  came  eastern  tribes,  not 
intimate  with  the  whites,  with  their  wonderful  spotted 
Yakima  and  Klikitat  horses,  which  with  split  ears,  and 
ribbons  in  their  manes  and  tails,  flew  down  the  track  at 
Nisqually. 

Quickly  the  Summer  sped,  warmer  than  usual,  with 
now  and  then  a  cloud  from  Japan  cooled  by  the  snowy 
Olympics  on  a  hot  day,  and  now  and  then  a  breeze  from 
Rainier, .the  vast  white  sentinel  of  Puget  Sound.  When 
October  ushered  in  the  south  wind  and  rain  the  Yakimas 
came  for  their  last  Autumn  race,  and  bore  a  strange  mes 
sage,  -  '  The  Bostons  are  come  with  squaws."  A  few 
days  later  Dr.  McLoughlin  sent  word  that  Whitman  had 
arrived  with  a  thousand  people,  mostly  with  ox-teams. 

Quietly  from  his  plains  at  Walla  Walla  Chief  Piopio- 
moxmox  had  watched  the  long  procession,  quietly  the 
immigrants  called  to  their  oxen,  wondering  meanwhile 
at  the  clouds  of  Indians  on  the  hills.  Wagons,  —  wagons 
and  white  women  and  children  mystified  the  red  men. 
They  had  looked  for  an  army  with  guns  and  banners. 
But  with  wagons  and  women  Oregon  was  taken.  Never 
before  had  a  wheeled  vehicle  followed  the  road  to  the 
Dalles. 

"  The  Yankees  are  here,  Mr.  Douglas !  "  announced 
Dr.  McLoughlin  to  his  chief  lieutenant.  :'  The  Yankees 
are  here,  and  the  next  thing  we  know  they  will  yoke  up 
their  oxen,  drive  down  to  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia, 
and  come  out  at  Japan !  " 


BOOK     II 
BEYOND   THE    BORDER 


BOOK  II 

BEYOND  THE  BORDER 

I 

THE  MEN  OF  '44 

!HEY  crossed !  Women  crossed  the  Rocky  Moun 
tains  !  "  Thousands  heard  it  with  a  thrill.  "  Yes, 
took  their  wagons  into  Oregon."  The  deciding 
note  had  been  struck  for  American  homes  beyond  the 
Rockies. 

The  crash  of  "  wild  cat  "  banks,  the  cessation  of  work 
on  railroads,  canals,  and  manufactories,  had  thrown  an 
army  of  laborers  upon  their  own  resources.  In  the  midst 
of  this  enforced  idleness  came  the  radiant  thought: 
"  There  are  yet  new  worlds  to  conquer.  We  will  own 
lands.  As  our  fathers  came  to  Ohio,  Indiana,  Illinois, 
Kentucky,  let  us  go  over  into  Oregon." 

Missouri,  the  border  State,  especially  was  in  a  ferment. 
Her  regiments  of  mounted  volunteers  had  come  back 
from  the  Seminole  war  covered  with  glory.  Chiefs  Tiger 
Tail  and  Alligator  had  gone  down  before  their  prowess, 
and  now,  mustered  out,  the  restless  volunteers  were  look 
ing  for  other  adventures,  and  where  but  in  the  West,  the 
West,  that  realm  of  romance  and  of  mystery!  Hitherto 
only  trappers  and  missionaries  had  ventured  out,  but 
now  women  had  gone  beyond  the  border. 

Around  their  shellbark  hickory  fires  the  neighbors 
gathered  to  talk  it  over.  The  wagons  of  last  year  had 
passed  that  way ;  they  had  talked  with  those  women,  had 
outfitted  those  men.  Oregon  became  a  tangible  reality. 

"  Mother,  we  must  better  our  condition,"  began  Henry 
Sagar,  one  of  the  restless  ones.  "  I  thought  that  when 


U2  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

we  got  to  Missouri  our  troubles  would  all  be  over,  but 
times  seem  just  as  hard  here  as  in  Ohio.  Times  always 
are  hard  for  a  man  with  six  children  and  no  money 
ahead  to  buy  them  bread.  Now,  mother,  they  say  that 
out  in  Oregon  a  man  and  his  wife  can  take  up  six  hun 
dred  and  forty  acres  of  land,  a  whole  mile  square.  And 
that  could  be  divided  up  into  farms  for  all  our  children." 

Naomi  Sagar,  a  pale,  delicate  little  woman,  smiled 
at  her  husband's  enthusiasm  as  she  mended  away  at 
Matilda's  frock.  He  always  had  visions  of  better  things 
to  be,  and  yet  not  altogether  a  dreamer  was  Henry 
Sagar,  but  a  typical  American,  a  farmer,  a  blacksmith, 
a  man  with  a  wide  reputation  for  ingenuity.  He  could 
do  things.  Anything  to  be.  made  or  mended  sought  his 
shop,  and  in  that  shop  Henry  Sagar  was  in  touch  with 
the  times. 

"  And  they  say  it  is  n't  cold  out  there,  grass  is  green 
all  the  year  round,  and  timber  so  plenty  that  fuel  costs 
nothing.  In  one  year  you  can  get  a  crop,  and  straw 
berries  bloom  all  Winter.  Why,  even  the  rivers  are  so 
full  of  salmon  that  you  can  pick  them  out  with  your 
hands!" 

Mrs.  Sagar  listened.  Some  of  that  fuel  and  some  of 
those  salmon  would  be  very  acceptable  just  now,  when 
the  wood  box  was  almost  empty  and  the  larder  almost 
bare. 

"  With  only  his  hands  to  work  with,  what  can  a  man 
do  when  times  are  hard  ? "  continued  her  husband. 
"  There,  with  land,  one  has  resources.  Stock  and  crops 
grow  while  you  sleep.  Now  here,  land  is  getting  high 
in  Missouri."  And,  as  ever,  the  compliant  little  wife 
nodded,  "  Perhaps  it  will  be  best,  Henry.  I  am  willing 
to  go." 

So,  late  in  1843,  Henry  Sagar  sold  his  property  and 
moved  to  St.  Joseph  to  be  ready  to  start  in  April,  and 
all  Winter  this  industrious  little  helpmeet  sewed  at  rags 
to  make  a  new  carpet  for  the  home  in  Oregon. 

"  Sally,  I  can't  seem  to  settle  down  nohow."  With  a 
piece  of  glass  Captain  William  Shaw,  a  homespun  veteran 
of  1812,  was  polishing  a  powder-horn.  "I  reckon  it's 


THE    MEN    OF    '44  113 

in  the  blood,  Sally.  My  father  served  through  the  Revo 
lution  to  win  independence  for  his  country,  and  then  I 
marched  with  the  Tennesseeans  to  help  Jackson  at  New 
Orleans  in  1815.  This  last  trip  to  Florida  has  awakened 
all  the  memories,  Sally,  and  now  I  Ve  seen  Whitman, 
I  want  to  crown  my  old  age  by  saving  Oregon  to  the 
United  States." 

"  Billy,  you  had  better  talk  with  Neil.  You  know  his 
judgment  is  good  about  such  matters,"  answered  Mrs. 
Shaw,  referring  to  her  brother,  Cornelius  Gilliam,  who 
had  returned  from  Florida  a  Colonel. 

"  Lord,  mother,  it 's  Neil  that 's  putting  me  up  to  the 
notion.  His  wife  wants  to  go,  and  Polly,  and  all  the 
boys.  Everything  now  depends  on  what  you  say.  And 
this  Linn's  Bill  is  a  great  thing  to  secure  land  for  ourselves 
and  all  our  sons." 

And  of  course  "  Aunt  Sally  Shaw,"  as  she  was  known 
to  all  the  country  round,  agreed  to  go  wherever  her 
husband  and  children  did.  The  Winter  was  spent  in 
getting  ready ;  and  with  pigs,  chickens,  a  drove  of  stock, 
and  a  flock  of  sheep,  the  united  families  of  Shaw  and 
Gilliam,  and  their  married  sons  and  daughters,  rolled 
out  to  the  old  tent  ground  of  Joe  Roubideaux,  the 
trapper. 

"  Have  you  seen  Linn's  Bill  ?  "  Joe  Watt,  a  young 
carpenter,  chatted  with  a  well-to-do  farmer  by  the  name 
of  Gerrish.  "  There  was  a  time  when  I  wanted  to  go 
to  Texas  to  help  Sam  Houston  fi£ht  for  independence, 
but  now  I  think  I  'd  rather  go  to  Oregon  and  hold  it 
for  Uncle  Sam.  Times  are  too  hard  here ;  money  is  not 
to  be  had  for  love  or  labor." 

"  No,"  -  Gerrish  shook  his  head,  —  "  the  Southerner 
gets  nothing  for  his  cotton,  the  Northern  man  nothing 
for  his  corn.  Speculation  has  ended  with  a  snap.  The 
farmer  gets  nothing;  no  market  for  his  crops." 

"  Just  so,  just  so,"  assented  the  young  carpenter. 
"  And  Oregon  is  by  the  sea ;  a  chance  for  ships  and 
markets  all  over  the  world.  Oregon  wheat  can  go  to 
England,  while  Missouri  wheat  rots  in  the  granary." 

Dan  Clark  listened,  —  a  gaunt  young  ferryman  of 

8 


H4  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

twenty,  —  and  Sam  Crockett,  of  the  house  of  Davy 
Crockett.  In  the  end  all  three  agreed  to  go,  and  drive 
the  teams  and  cattle  for  Mr.  Gerrish  two  thousand  miles 
to  Oregon. 

Upon  the  waters  of  the  Hundred-and-Two  branch 
of  the  Missouri,  Michael  Simmons  was  building  a  grist 
mill.  By  day  he  hammered,  by  night  he  spelled  out  a 
work  on  mechanics ;  at  last,  by  the  rule  of  "  cut  and 
fit,"  the  mill  was  ready.  Everybody  in  the  country  came 
to  Simmons's  mill ;  it  was  the  centre,  the  debating  school, 
the  forum,  all  in  one.  A  typical  Kentucky  frontiersman 
was  Mike  Simmons,  —  of  grand  physique,  independent, 
courageous,  and  a  born  hater  of  slavery. 

"  We  '11  see  these  niggers  risin'  yet,"  one  neighbor  pre 
dicted  with  a  consciousness  perhaps  of  his  own  injustice. 
'  These  pesky  abolitionists  are  urgin'  'em  on.  I  distrust 
every  black,  and  most  of  all  a  free  one.  Now  look  at 
Bush,  durned  ready  to  help  with  his  money.  In  case  of 
trouble  he  'd  be  one  to  reckon  with." 

Hot  and  hotter  was  growing  the  controversy  all  over 
the  country.  Frenzied  mobs  were  breaking  up  anti- 
slavery  meetings,  William  Lloyd  Garrison  was  dragged 
through  the  streets  of  Boston,  Lovejoy  was  shot  for 
editing  an  antislavery  paper..  Urged  on  by  agitators, 
the  whites  were  in  fear  of  the  blacks,  the  blacks  were  in 
fear  of  the  whites.  George  Washington  Bush  —  how 
ever  the  colored  people  love  the  name  of  the  great  father 
of  liberty !  —  George  Washington  Bush  was  a  free  mu 
latto,  born  in  the  North,  educated  and  intelligent.  With 
a  tact  for  getting  and  holding  property,  by  the  force  of 
his  own  enterprise  and  industry  he  had  amassed  a  com 
petence.  This  alone  in  a  community  of  improvident 
frontiersmen  was  enough  to  arouse  antagonism,  even  had 
he  been  a  white  man,  but  that  ounce  of  Africa  in  his 
veins,  that  white  wife,  white  children !  There  was  danger 
in  store  for  George  Washington  Bush. 

"  I  am  a  colored  man,  a  veteran  of  the  war  of  1812, 
and  a  participant  in  the  battle  of  New  Orleans,  but  I 
fear  my  neighbors."  Bush  confided  to  his  friend  Simmons 
at  the  mill.  No  one  brought  more  wheat  than  he,  no 


THE    MEN    OF    '44  115 

one  paid  a  bigger  toll.  "  Yes,  I  fear  them,"  again  he 
whispered  a  few  weeks  later.  "  They  may  confiscate  my 
property  and  cast  me  into  slavery'.  Day  and  night  I 
am  wondering  whither  I  can  fly  from  the  storm  that  is 
surely  impending.  I  hear  threats,  I  meet  insults,  my 
rights  are  disregarded,  and  I  must  certainly  seek  a  refuge 
in  some  other  place." 

"Why  not  go  to  Oregon?"  suggested  Mr.  Simmons. 
"  If  you  will  go,  I  will,  and  perhaps  a  few  of  the  neigh 
bors  who  feel  as  we  do  about  this  matter."  So  it  came 
about  that  Mike  Simmons  sold  his  mill,  and  with  the 
proceeds  bought  an  outfit,  and  that  George  Washington 
Bush,  out  of  his  own  pocket,  furnished  teams  and  means 
to  bring  several  of  the  friendly  antislavery  neighbors 
to  Oregon.  The  friendship  of  those  two  men,  Michael 
Simmons  and  George  Washington  Bush,  is  one  of  the 
notable  facts  in  Pacific  history;  they  consulted,  planned, 
prepared,  and  one  day  a  great  company  with  flocks  and 
herds  moved  out  from  the  Hundred-and-Two  branch 
of  the  Missouri  for  the  rendezvous  at  St.  Joe.  Men 
talked,  and  women  listened  by  the  Winter  fires,  of  British 
influence,  and  the  promises  of  Benton  that  the  United 
States  would  extend  her  segis  over  Oregon. 

"  I  want  to  hear  the  British  lion  growl  and  help  file 
off  his  claws,"  said  some. 

"  If  slavery  is  going  to  rule  America  I  want  to  go  into 
British  territory,  where  all  are  fuee,"  said  others. 

"  I  want  to  get  away  from  fever  and  ague,  I  want  a 
better  climate  and  to  be  near  the  great  ocean,"  groaned 
many  a  sallow-faced  sufferer  along  the  newly  opened 
prairies. 

"  But  the  distance,  the  mountains,  the  deserts,  the 
Indians,  wild  beasts  and  bridgeless  rivers !  "  gasped  the 
timid,  and  stayed  at  home.  Only  the  brave  fared  forth 
to  Oregon. 

"  Stay  in  Missouri  with  sickness  and  threatened 
death!"  exclaimed  one  Mrs.  Waldo,  in  1843.  "I'd 
rather  go  to  an  Indian  country.  And  as  to  hostilities, 
there  will  be  a  large  force  of  emigrants,  and  they  can 
go  through  any  country," 


n6  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  If  a  woman  can  stand  it  we  can.  If  she  is  n't  afraid 
of  Indians  we  are  not,"  and  that  decided  the  Waldos 
and  Applegates  of  '43,  who  have  left  their  names  on  the 
rivers  and  hills  of  the  Pacific  seaboard. 

The  Winter  of  1843-1844  was  a  busy  one  along  the 
frontier.  The  best  of  wagons  and  horses  and  cows  must 
be  had  for  the  trip.  Far  into  the  night  fires  glowed  in 
the  forges  where  blacksmiths  were  shoeing  horses  and 
oxen,  and  hooping  with  iron  the  great  Missouri  wagons 
that  were  to  carry  civilization  to  the  distant  sea. 

"  Father,  I  am  going  to  Oregon !  "  William  M.  Case 
of  Wayne  County,  Indiana,  looked  up  from  the  Lewis 
and  Clark  Journals  he  had  been  reading.  From  earliest 
boyhood  William  had  pored  over  those  documents  for 
warded  to  his  father  by  William  Henry  Harrison  when 
delegate  to  Congress  from  Indiana  Territory.  And  now 
the  fever  had  risen.  "  Yes,  father,  I  am  going  to 
Oregon." 

Wages  were  twenty-five  cents  a  day  in  Indiana,  six 
dollars  a  month,  or  one  hundred  dollars  a  year  in  special 
cases.  The  father  looked  at  his  boy,  not  yet  twenty,  and 
recalled  his  own  pioneering.  "  Well,  William,  don't  go 
before  you  are  married.  Take  a  wife  with  you."  And 
with  a  wife  he  started. 

"  My  father  used  to  clip  me  in  the  surf  of  the  Atlantic 
on  the  New  Jersey  shore,"  laughed  the  bride  on  her  way, 
"  and  now  I  should  like  to  dip  into  the  surf  of  the 
Pacific." 

Thorp's  train  was  at  the  Omaha  crossing  with  sixty 
wagons,  and  James  W.  Marshall,  the  future  famed  dis 
coverer  of  gold,  ready  to  strike  out  up  the  Platte  in 
advance  of  the  St.  Joe  company.  Near  Independence, 
the  future  Kansas  City,  Nathaniel  Ford's  great  train  was 
waiting  for  the  first  springing  grass  of  April.  With  him, 
and  his  wife  Lucinda  and  their  children,  travelled  his 
sister  Keziah  and  her  husband,  David  Goff,  and  their 
pretty  daughter  Pauline,  the  wife-to-be  of  a  future  United 
States  Senator;  and  James  Welch  was  there  with  his 
wife  Nancy,  one  of  the  first  white  women  to  settle  on 
the  site  of  John  Jacob  Astor's  old  Fort  Astoria, 


THE    MEN    OF    '44  117 

"  If  I  live  I  shall  cross  the  Rocky  Mountains,"  a  boy 
of  eighteen  was  saying  to  his  father  at  Pittsburgh 

"  But  we  have  just  arrived  from  England,  John. 
Is  n't  this  far  enough  west?  " 

The  boy  and  his  father  were  miners  driven  from 
Newcastle-on-Tyne  by  the  abridgment  of  human  liberty 
in  the  coal  mines.  And  soon,  now,  a  strike  in  the  Pitts- 
burg  mines  left  young  Minto  at  leisure  to  follow  his  bent 
for  westward  roaming. 

"  Here  is  a  fine  new  double-barrelled  fowling-piece, 
John ;  take  it,  and  wherever  you  go,  be  an  honest  man." 

As  a  deck-hand  on  a  steamer,  young  Minto  went  down 
the  Ohio  and  up  to  St.  Louis.  A  Missouri  steamer  was 
fitting  out  for  Weston.  Grizzly  old  fur  traders  with  guns 
and  beaver  traps  were  gathering  and  talking  of  Oregon. 
Eager  young  men  listened.  Barely  enough  money  had 
John  Minto  to  pay  his  passage  to  Weston,  but  he  caught 
the  sentence,  "  Oh,  yes,  there  are  plenty  of  men  with 
families  and  means  who  need  help,  and  will  furnish  board 
to  single  men  for  their  work." 

"  Here,  boys,  is  the  fellow  that  goes  to  Oregon  or 
dies  in  a  snowbank  in  the  Rockies !  "  John  Minto  twirled 
his  cap  in  air. 

"  And  I  with  you,  shake  on  that !  "  Willard  H.  Rees, 
the  son  of  a  member  of  the  Ohio  legislature,  reached  out 
his  hand,  and  the  two,  together  with  the  rest  of  the 
throng,  journeyed  by  slow  boa,t  up  the  Missouri  to 
Weston,  to  St.  Joe,  and  ten  miles  further  to  Gilliam's 
camp  at  the  rendezvous. 

"  Sit  down,  boys.  Help  yourselves."  George  Wash 
ington  Bush  waved  his  hand  toward  a  hospitable  table 
spread  on  the  grass,  where  all  newcomers  were  welcome. 
Michael  Simmons  was  talking  of  the  Linn  Bill. 

"  Yes,  it  has  passed  the  Senate  but  failed  in  the  House ; 
but  I  am  satisfied  that  it,  or  a  bill  like  it,  will  be  passed 
by  Congress,  and  I  propose  to  be  on  the  ground." 

"  Is  there  any  one  in  the  camp  needing  a  hand?  "  John 
Minto  inquired,  as  he  ate  his  supper. 

"  Not  here,  but  a  man  across  the  river  is  reported  as 
needing  two  men,"  replied  Mr.  Simmons. 


n8  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Soon  after  -daylight  Rees  and  Minto  were  at  the  Mor 
rison  farmhouse,  just  as  the  hurried  owner  was  rising 
from  an  early  breakfast. 

"  We  have  been  informed  that  you  were  needing  help." 

"  Y-es,  y-es,  boys."  Slowly  the  farmer  eyed  them 
over.  "  I  supposed  I  had  my  help  engaged,  but  I  find 
myself  mistaken.  I  can  furnish  you  bed  and  board,  take 
your  trunks,  and  have  your  washing  and  mending  done, 
if  you  will  give  me  the  help  I  need  to  get  my  family  and 
effects  to  Oregon.  I  have  four  guns  and  two  wagons, 
and,  after  we  are  fairly  started,  my  older  children  will 
be  able  to  keep  up  the  loose  stock,  so  that  one  of  us  can 
be  spared  to  hunt  every  day,  if  we  choose;  and  you  shall 
have  your  turn  at  that." 

"  All  right,  sir."  The  boys  stepped  into  the  cabin, 
where  a  Dutch  oven  stood  on  the  ashes.  "  Nancy,  can 
you  give  these  young  men  some  breakfast  ?  "  As  they 
left  the  table  Mr.  Morrison  was  at  the  door  with  a 
horse. 

"  Here,  Rees ;  is  that  the  name,  —  Mr.  Rees  ?  Take 
this  gold,  mount  yonder  horse,  gallop  to  Roubideaux 
Landing,  and  buy  me  breadstuffs  enough  to  last  ten 
persons  for  a  six  months'  journey.  Let  me  see,  that 
will  be  about  nine  barrels  of  flour,  and  —  Nancy,  how 
much  corn  meal  have  we  in  the  house?" 

"  Oh,  a  right  smart  chance,  Wilson,"  answered  the 
wife,  a  woman  of  commanding  stature,  honest  gray  eyes, 
and  abundant  auburn  hair  that  waved  about  her  brow. 
Minto  quickly  glanced  toward  her.  Never  before  had 
he  heard  that  expression  as  a  measure  of  quantity. 

"  Well,  get  three  hundred  pounds  of  corn  meal ;  I 
reckon  that  will  last  as  long  as  it  will  keep  good." 
Cheerfully  Rees  started  out  on  his  all-day  journey  to 
Joe  Roubideaux's  little  wind  grist-mill,  the  nucleus  of 
future  St.  Joseph. 

"  And  you,  Minto,  may  help  me  make  a  wagon  tongue." 

A  white  oak  sapling  was  quickly  cut,  and,  as  the  peel 
ing  was  in  progress,  the  wroman  with  auburn  hair  spoke 
to  her  husband  from  the  kitchen  end  of  the  double  log 
cabin :  "  Wilson,  you  'd  feel  mighty  queer  if  that  man 


"  At  that  moment  a  young  girl  passed  from  the  kitchen  door  to 
the  spring  for  a  bucket  of  water." 


THE    MEN    OF    '44  119 

served  you  a  Yankee  trick,  and  went  off  with  your  horse 
and  money !  " 

There  was  a  silence  and  then  a  quiet  answer.  "  Well, 
if  he  does,  he  'd  better  not  let  me  overtake  him,  that 's 
all  I  've  got  to  say."  Mrs.  Morrison  laughed  and  stepped 
within. 

A  grateful  warmth  flushed  the  heart  of  John  Minto 
as  he  commented  to  himself,  "  Trusting,  and  therefore 
trusty."  At  that  moment  a  young  girl  passed  from  the 
kitchen  door  to  the  spring  for  a  bucket  of  water.  John 
caught  the  sunlight  glancing  on  her  hair. 

"  There,  Johnny  Minto,  there  goes  your  wife  that 
is  to  be."  Then,  blushing  at  his  own  thought,  lower 
drooped  the  boy's  head,  and  madly  he  worked,  humming, 
meanwhile,  an  old  English  ballad : 

"  The  farmer's  boy  grew  up  a  man, 
And  the  good  old  farmer  died, 
And  left  the  lad  the  farm  he  had 
With  the  daughter  for  his  bride." 

Like  the  domestic  murmur  of  bees,  Martha  Ann  heard 
the  song,  and  with  a  heightened  color  hurried  on,  scarce 
glancing  at  the  boy  at  the  wagon  tongue.  Still  remin 
iscent  of  its  recent  burden  of  venison  and  wild  honey 
from  the  woods  stood  the  great  four-horse  wagon,  to  be 
changed  now  into  a  lumbering  vehicle  drawn  by  yokes 
of  heavy  oxen.  Neighbors  gathered  as  they  worked,  — 
before  night  John  Minto  found  that  R.  W.  Morrison  was 
one  of  the  foremost  and  most  trusted  pioneers  in  all  that 
part  of  Missouri.  He  had  sold  his  farm  for  cash,  and 
was  investing  most  of  the  proceeds  in  this  Oregon  outfit. 

"  Not  in  my  judgment  a  wise  business  move,"  Mrs. 
Morrison  admitted,  as  she  darned  John  Minto's  socks 
that  night ;  "  but  Wilson  wishes  to  go,  and  so,  —  of 
course,  that  settles  it  with  me !  "  she  added  with  a  laugh. 
Not  a  complaint,  not  a  murmur,  but  pleasantly  and  pa 
tiently,  as  if  it  were  her  own  heart's  wish,  Mrs.  Morrison 
was  preparing  for  the  journey. 

"  Are  you  not  afraid?  "  inquired  the  boy. 

"  Oh,  no.     By  my  mother's  death  on  the  wild  frontiers 


120  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

of  Tennessee,  I  was  left  at  sixteen  the  housekeeper  of 
my  father's  family.     He  taught  me  the  use  of  the  gun, 
and  I  have  never  felt  dread  of  any  living  creature  — 
except  a  runaway  slave." 

For  two  weeks  friends,  neighbors,  and  relatives  of  the 
Morrisons  came  for  miles  to  bid  the  family  good-bye. 
Indeed,  before  the  return  of  Rees  from  Roubideaux,  the 
sheriff  arrived  with  all  his  family,  and  the  county  judge, 
and  the  Presbyterian  preacher,  until  beds  and  tables  could 
scarce  contain  them  all. 

"  Can't  one  of  you  boys  sing?  "  called  the  sheriff  that 
night  as  the  company  retired  behind  quilts  hung  at  every 
angle  in  the  frontier  cabin. 

"  Yes,  John  has  lots  of  songs,"  Rees  volunteered,  and 
John,  nurtured  on  ballads  handed  down  through  gener 
ations  of  Mintos,  in  a  spirit  of  challenge,  sang  from 
behind  his  homespun  curtain. 

"  Will  you  go,  lassie,  go 

To  the  braes  of  Balquhidder, 
Where  the  blaeberries  grow 

'Mang  the  bonny  blooming  heather; 
Where  the  deer  and  the  rae, 

Lightly  bounding  together, 
Sport  the  lang  summer  day 

'Mang  the  braes  of  Balquhidder?" 

The  tittering  girls  were  silent  now.  Martha  Ann  hid 
her  flushing  cheek  in  the  pillow,  and  listened  to  the  first 
love  serenade  of  her  life.  Intuitively  she  understood. 
Did  the  rest?  she  wondered. 

"  I  will  twine  thee  a  bower 

By  the  clear  siller  fountain, 
And  cover  it  o'er 

Wi'  the  flowers  of  the  mountain, 
I  will  range  through  the  wilds 

And  the  deep  glens  sae  dreary, 
And  return  wi'  the  spoils 

To  the  bower  o'  my  dearie." 

In  a  flash,  Oregon  became  enchanted  country;  already 
flowers  and  glens  and  mountains  were  gleaming  in  a 
halo  like  that  of  dreams. 


THE    MEN    OF    '44  121 

"When  the  rude  winter  wind 

Idly  raves  round  our  dwelling, 
And  the  roar  of  the  linn 

On  the  night  breeze  is  swelling, 
Sae  merrily  we  '11  sing 

When  the  storm  rattles  o'er  us, 
Till  the  dear  shieling  ring 

Wi'  the  loud  lilting  chorus." 

A  rushing  of  waterfalls,  a  perfume  of  winds  in  the 
tops  of  tall  forests  came  alike  to  mother  and  to  daughter, 
—  the  one  who  had  known  Tennessee,  the  other  who  was 
yet  to  know  a  wilder,  more  magnificent  Highlands. 

"Now  the  summer  is  in  prime, 

Wi'  the  flowers  richly  blooming, 
And  the  wild  mountain  thyme 

A'  the  moorlands  perfuming. 
To  our  dear  native  scenes 

Let  us  journey  together, 
Where  glad  innocence  reigns 

'Mang  the  braes  o'  Balquhidder." 

None  so  quick  to  grasp  the  spirit  of  poesy  as  the 
American  frontiersman.  In  that  brief  song  Mrs.  Mor 
rison  felt  her  last  objection  swept  away.  In  Oregon 
bloomed  the  braes  of  Balquhidder. 

The  sheriff  spoke.  "  Well,  young  man,  that 's  a  good 
song.  I  fancy  there  's  another  where  that  came  from." 

The  fire  snapped,  darting  gleams  along  the  raftered 
ceiling;  a  draught  down  chimney  shook  the  curtains. 

'  These  people  are  on  a  visit  of  friendship  and  fare 
well,"  reflected  Minto,  in  his  little  alcove.  "  Let  me  try 
Tom  Moore's  hymn  to  friendship,  — l  The  Meeting  of 
the  Waters.'  ' 

As  if  gifted  with  supernatural  feeling,  the  melodious 
voice  touched  a  deeper  chord,  melting  his  auditors  to 
sobs  as  the  last  exquisite  note  melted  away,  and  slumber 
fell  upon  the  deep-breathing  household. 

The  next  morning,  in  her  loom-house,  a  cabin  apart, 
Mrs.  Morrison  was  making  her  shuttle  fly  over  cloth 
for  the  journey,  when  she  saw  the  great  wagon  of  the 
Reverend  Edward  E.  Parrish  of  Marietta  rolling  by. 


122  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Snatching  off  her  white  apron,  and  swinging  it  above 
her  head,  gayly  from  the  door  she  hailed  the  passing 
family:  "If  you  get  there  before  I  do,  tell  them  I'm 
coming."  With  a  laugh  and  a  friendly  wave  of  the 
hand  the  strangers  passed  on  to  the  rendezvous. 

Four  times  the  dinner-table  was  set  on  the  last  Sunday, 
then,  retiring  to  the  shade  outside,  the  men  talked  of 
Oregon. 

"  Think  of  the  Indians,"  Judge  Irwin  was  saying, 
"  and  think  of  the  terrible  journey.  Is  not  this  an 
unnecessary  search  for  toil  and  danger  ?  "  And,  finally, 
"  Wilson,  why  are  ye  going  anyhow,  leaving  butter  and 
honey  and  good  corn-bread  ?  Are  n't  the  woods  here  alive 
with  prairie  chickens  and  wild  turkeys  ?  " 

As  if  not  hearing  that  last  sentence,  slowly  the  pioneer' 
of  pioneers,  born  under  the  shadow  of  Harrod's  fort, 
turned  to  his  wife's  brother :  "  Well,  Jedge,  I  allow  the 
United  States  has  the  best  right  to  that  country,  and  I 
am  going  to  help  make  that  right  good.  Then,  I  sup 
pose,  it  is  true,  as  you  have  been  sayin',  there  are  a  great 
many  Injuns  there  that  will  have  to  be  civilized,  and 
though  I  am  no  missionary,  I  have  no  objection  to  help 
ing  in  that.  Then,  I  am  not  satisfied  here.  There  is 
little  we  raise  that  pays  shipment  to  market,  —  a  little 
hemp  and  a  little  tobacco.  Unless  a  man  keeps  niggers, 
and  I  won't,"  slapping  his  knee  for  emphasis,  "  he  has 
no  even  chance;  he  cannot  compete  with  the  man  that 
does.  Now  there  is  Dick  Owens,  my  neighbor;  he  has 
a  few  field  hands,  and  a  few  niggers.  They  raise  and 
make  all  the  family  and  themselves  eat  and  wear,  and 
some  hemp  and  tobacco  besides.  If  markets  are  good, 
Dick  will  sell ;  if  not,  he  can  hold  over,  while  I  am 
compelled  to  sell  all  I  can  make  every  year  in  order  to 
make  ends  meet.  I  'm  going  to  Oregon,  where  there  '11 
be  no  slaves,  and  we  '11  all  start  even." 

Other  emigrants  were  waiting  at  St.  Joe,  —  men, 
women,  and  children,  —  camped  like  an  army  on  the 
green,  —  descendants  of  Scotch  Covenanters,  and  sons  of 
the  "  Long  Knives  "  of  Point  Pleasant  and  King's  Moun 
tain,  mechanics  and  artisans,  watchmakers,  machinists, 


THE    MEN    OF    '44  123 

carpenters,  millwrights,  ferrymen,  and  school-teachers, 
each  with  a  trade  or  calling  needed  in  a  new  country. 

Boys  were  in  evidence,  prepared  to  earn  their  way  by 
driving  teams,  guarding  stock,  or  standing  night  senti 
nels  beside  the  sleeping  camp.  Men  were  there  who  had 
held  seats  in  every  legislature  from  Virginia  to  Mis 
souri,  —  all  now,  as  birds  flocking  for  migration,  gath 
ered  at  St.  Joe,  Independence,  and  where  Omaha  was 
yet  to  be,  preparing  to  transport  a  moving  State,  an 
organized  government,  to  the  shore  of  a  distant  ocean. 

"  I  move  that  Cornelius  Gilliam  be  chosen  General  of 
this  emigration,"  rang  out  a  voice  at  the  first  mass  meet 
ing  beyond  the  border.  Gilliam  had  served  in  the  Mis 
souri  legislature,  had  been  an  officer  in  the  Florida  war, 
where,  at  the  battle  of  Okechobee,  he  jumped  his  com 
pany  across  a  creek  into  the  midst  of  the  red  men  and 
sent  them  flying.  Instantly  the  American  instinct  for 
hero  worship  responded,  "  Gilliam  forever !  "  At  the 
same  election  Simmons  become  Colonel  Michael  T.  Sim 
mons,  and  ever  after  the  leaders  of  the-  companies  were 
known  as  Captains  Shaw,  Morrison,  and  Woodcock. 

Cornelius  Gilliam  made  a  great  speech,  "  And  now  we 
will  march  immediately."  Straightway  heavy  ox-wagons 
fell  into  line,  whip-lashes  snapped  like  pistol-shots,  and 
St.  Joe  knew  them  no  more.  They  had  committed  them 
selves  to  the  vast  green  silence,  so  still,  so  far,  that  the 
nation  almost  forgot  that  a  seed  Ijad  been  wafted  to  its 
western  shore.  As  upon  the  dead,  the  shipwrecked,  the 
lost,  the  curtain  rang  down,  save  when  now  and  then  a 
brief  infrequent  letter  found  its  way  to  a  parental  hearth. 
But  westward,  ever  westward,  like  a  thread  of  destiny, 
three  lines  were  following  the  trails  of  buffalo  and  In 
dian,  —  the  lines  of  least  resistance,  the  first  far  faint 
beginnings  of  the  overland  railroads  of  to-morrow. 


MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 


II 

PIONEER  MOTHERS 

NANCY  MORRISON'S  flax-wheel  was  in  the 
wagon,  her  bobbins  and  her  weaving  sleys,  and 
every  woman  down  the  line  was  knitting  for 
dear  life.  "For  how  can  we  waste  so  much  time?" 
said  the  industrious  pioneer  mothers.  Rosy  children, 
six  and  seven  to  a  wagon,  clustered  like  bouquets  around 
them,  gazing  with  wide-eyed  wonder  at  the  world  with 
out.  Far  away  in  the  morning  sunlight  glittered  the 
new  wagon-tops  of  Bush,  Simmons,  and  Gabriel  Jones 
and  their  families,  B.  C.  Kindred  and  Rachel  with  their 
little  all,  —  her  baby  and  her  wedding-dress,  —  and  James 
McAllister,  with  two  yokes  of  cows,  who  had  come  on 
from  Kentucky  to  join  them. 

On  a  strong,  swift  horse  George  Waunch,  a  German 
gunsmith,  was  their  leader,  —  an  ardent  sportsman,  rid 
ing  miles  ahead  each  day,  reconnoitring  the  country, 
picking  out  camping  spots,  water,  and  grazing.  Wood 
cock's  company  had  already  passed  on  and  out  of  sight, 
to  be  seen  no  more  until  they  reached  the  Columbia. 

The  boys  driving  cattle  rode  singing  on.  What  voices 
they  had,  and  jokes  for  every  one!  Joe  Watt  had  on  a 
walnut  roundabout,  fresh  from  his  mother's  loom,  and 
a  red  blanket  overcoat  somewhat  the  worse  for  wear. 

"  I  have  borrowed  two  dollars  and  a  half,  Joe,  to  fit 
you  out,"  his  father  had  said  at  parting;  and  with  that 
the  young  man  had  bought  a  pair  of  boots,  and  invested 
the  rest  in  pins  and  fish-hooks  to  trade  with  the  Indians. 
But  new  boots!  Slinging  them  over  his  rifle  and  don 
ning  moccasins,  Joe  Watt  walked  most  of  the  way  across 
the  plains.  Joe's  grandfather  fought  in  the  Revolution, 
his  father  was  one  of  the  heroes  with  Commodore  Perry 


PIONEER    MOTHERS  125 

on  Lake  Erie,  and  now  Joe,  the  eldest  of  fourteen  chil 
dren,  was  to  carry  the  family  honor  on  to  Oregon.  Other 
young  men  were  there  with  only  a  gun  over  their  shoul 
ders,  with  no  other  provision  or  outfit  than  a  buffalo 
robe  and  a  tin  cup,  mounting  their  ponies  and  starting 
on  a  journey  to  an  unknown  country,  hundreds  of  miles 
distant,  requiring  long  months  of  travel. 

"  Can  you  come  with  me  to  call  on  Mrs.  Sagar  this 
evening?"  inquired  Aunt  Sally  Shaw  of  Mrs.  Morrison, 
as  their  wagon  rolled  into  the  circle  with  locked  tongues 
and  wheels  for  the  night. 

"  Yes,  as  soon  as  the  work  is  done.  Where  is  Martha 
Ann?"  It  was  always  "Martha  Ann,  Martha  Ann," 
all  about  the  camp,  —  her  mother's  right-hand  help,  the 
eldest  daughter,  only  thirteen,  but  a  little  woman,  skilled 
in  the  kitchen,  —  and  "  Mary  Ellen,"  her  sister,  a  close 
second. 

"  Now,  Johnny,  bring  the  chips,"  -  buffalo  chips  of 
the  prairie,  where  wild  cattle  had  wandered  for  ages, 
bleached  in  the  suns  of  countless  Summers. 

Fires  having  been  kindled  along  the  wagons  inside 
the  corral,  clumsy  Dutch  ovens  were  filled  for  the  family 
baking,  and  soon  biscuits,  dried  apples,  beans,  coffee, 
and  bacon  were  spread  in  tins  on  the  grass  for  a  lot  of 
hungry  people;  cows  must  be  milked,  and  the  little  ones 
tucked  in  their  beds  in  the  wagons.  Then,  in  the  quiet 
evening,  Aunt  Sally  and  Mrs.  Morrison  went  over  to 
visit  Mrs.  Sagar. 

Oh,  the  happy,  noisy  little  Sagar  children,  —  Catharine, 
Elizabeth,  John,  Francis,  Matilda,  and  Louisa!  Their 
demonstrative  joy  almost  lifted  care  from  the  brow  of 
the  pale  and  worried  mother.  Around  them,  from  camp 
to  camp,  on  the  evening  air,  trilled  the  note  of  the  bugle, 
the  flute,  the  violin,  and  the  merry  laugh  of  dancers. 
The  Sagar  cattle  recrossed  the  Missouri  the  first  night 
and  went  back  to  Winter  quarters ;  their  recovery  caused 
delay,  and  a  forced  and  weary  march  to  rejoin  the  train. 
Mr.  Sagar  had  one  wagon,  two  steady  yoke  of  old  oxen, 
and  several  young,  unbroken  steers.  "  But  I  am  no  ox- 
driver;  perhaps  that  is  why  I  have  so  much  trouble  with 


MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

the  steers,"  he  had  remarked  that  afternoon,  calling  to 
Captain  Shaw  for  assistance. 

"  I  '11  tame  them  for  you,"  answered  Uncle  Billy, 
whacking  the  refractory  steers  with  a  gad  until  they 
were  glad  to  come  to  terms.  The  motion  of  the  wagon 
made  Mrs.  Sagar  sick,  and  then  it  rained,  —  rained  like 
a  hurricane.  That  day  they  crossed  the  Nemaha  River, 
and  a  baby  was  born  in  the  Sagar  camp.  The  night  was 
filled  with  lightning,  wind,  and  rain. 

"  Mrs.  Sagar  is  very  ill,"  went  the  word  down  the  line 
next  morning,  and  the  train  rested,  while  all  the  hundred 
mothers,  with  their  big  iron  pots  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nemaha,  had  a  washing  and  drying  day.  Improvised 
clotheslines  stretched  from  wagon-top  to  wagon-top; 
grass,  bushes,  —  all  were  white  with  bleaching  linen. 

"  And,  O  God,  remove  all  wild  beasts  and  savage  men 
from  our  pathway,"  prayed  the  Reverend  Mr.  Parrish 
on  the  Sabbath. 

"  I  hope  God  will  not  hear  that  prayer,"  whispered 
Johnny  Sagar  to  his  brother,  "  for  I  am  bound  to  kill 
a  buffalo,  and  I  should  like  to  see  a  grizzly  bear." 

And  still  it  rained,  —  in  sheets  and  cloudbursts,  inter 
spersed  now  and  then  with  cyclones  and  tempests  of  hail, 
as  if  the  very  elements  had  leagued  to  bar  the  march  of 
'44.  Rivulets  became  rivers ;  even  on  the  highest  prairie 
sod  wagon-wheels  cut  to  the  axle.  Drenched  were  the 
women  cooking  in  the  rain,  and  the  fires  went  out ; 
drenched  were  the  men  guarding  stock;  drenched  were 
tents  and  bedding.  Fourteen  days,  stormbound,  wist 
fully  they  gazed  on  the  rampant  Vermilion,  and  four  on 
the  raging  Big  Blue. 

"  I  can  cross  you,"  volunteered  Dan  Clark,  the  ferry 
man  of  '44.  On  catamaran  rafts  of  hollowed  logs,  into 
which  were  set  the  wheels  of  the  wagons,  one  by  one 
they  passed  over,  only  to  repeat  the  performance  at  the 
very  next  rivulet  swollen  to  a  torrent. 

Major  Thorp's  company  from  Omaha  was  already 
passing  up  the  Platte,  when  a  low  rumble  from  the  north 
came  tumbling  down  like  distant  thunder.  Drivers  were 
startled;  there  was  no  appearance  of  a  storm,  and  yet, 


PIONEER    MOTHERS  127 

louder,  more  ominous,  grew  the  muezzin  call  across  the 
desert.  Anxious  glasses  swept  the  horizon,  telescopes 
were  levelled. 

"  My  God !  "  —  the  Major  scanned  afar  —  "  ten  thou 
sand  buffaloes  are  sweeping  toward  this  train  like  a 
tornado.  Our  only  salvation  is  to  drive  out  of  range." 

The  patient,  plodding  oxen,  startled  by  cutting  whips, 
ran  madly,  wildly,  almost  stampeding,  before  the  swift- 
winged  terror.  They,  too,  caught  the  sound  of  bellow 
ing  cattle,  old  racial  fires  rekindled,  and  a  forgotten 
freedom  was  reasserted  as  with  swaying  wagons  they 
raced  across  the  plain.  Not  an  instant  too  soon !  —  as 
the  last  wheel  passed,  the  black-horned  herd  swept  roar 
ing  by,  tails  in  air,  flinging  the  earth  with  angry  hoofs 
and  shaking  their  manes  above  their  bloodshot  eyes.  To 
have  been  caught  would  have  been  burial  beneath  a  living 
avalanche.  Madly  the  splendid  brutes  plunged  into  the 
Platte,  darkening  the  stream  for  a  mile,  and  passed  on 
south. 

It  was  a  warm  Summer  day,  and  General  Gilliam  was 
asleep  in  his  wagon.  Captain  Morrison's  team  was  in 
the  lead,  and  the  Captain  himself,  scout  and  guide,  was 
five  miles  ahead,  with  his  long-stocked  Kentucky  rifle  on 
his  shoulder.  He,  too,  heard  a  hum,  —  a  detachment  of 
the  great  herd  was  veering  toward  the  St.  Joe  trail; 
boldly  he  advanced  and  took  a  shot,  bringing  the  first 
two-thousand-pound  monster  to  his  knees. 

"  That  a  buffalo?  "  The  Reverend  Mr.  Parrish  viewed 
the  Captain's  quarry.  "  Well,  Captain,  if  I  had  seen 
that  creature  without  knowing  what  it  was,  I  should 
have  called  it  Old  Nick  himself,  —  a  more  ungainly,  ugly 
animal  I  never  saw/' 

"Buffalo!   buffalo!" 

General  Gilliam,  wakened  by  the  call,  shaded  his  eyes 
to  look  out;  three. miles  away  vast  herds  were  moving 
from  the  Platte  bottom  up  the  hill.  "  Quick !  a  saddle 
horse !  " 

Little  Polly  Gilliam  jumped  from  her  mare,  Mrs. 
Gilliam  held  the  gun  ready;  in  no  time  the  General, 
astride,  beating  with  excited  heels,  called  back,  "  Boys, 


128  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

you  with  the  teams,  camp  where  there  is  wood  and 
water;  you  that  can,  mount  and  follow  me." 

John  Minto  stood  with  his  whip  in  the  middle  of  the 
road;  it  seemed  hard  that  all  but  him  could  join  the 
flying-  chase.  But  no,  other  boys,  as  steady  as  himself, 
were  picking  out  camping  spots,  and  looking  after  the 
safety  of  the  lives  and  property  in  their  care.  A  raw 
hand  was  at  the  Sagar  wheel;  in  the  confusion  the 
wagon  was  overturned,  and  for  a  long  time  the  mother 
of  the  recently  born  infant  lay  unconscious  on  the 
prairie. 

"  What  has  become  of  the  train  ?  "  Captain  Mor 
rison  came  hurrying  back.  "  Land !  Nancy,  five  miles 
ahead  I  had  a  better  spot  than  this,  with  a  buffalo  already 
at  the  door.  Come,  who  volunteers  to  bring  in  the  beef 
for  supper?"  At  eleven  o'clock  at  night  the  jolly  boys 
were  back,  every  horse  loaded,  and  Joe  Watt,  walking 
beside  his  mule,  led  the  singing.  All  night  long  Gilliam's 
party  came  stringing  in,  —  the  slaughter  had  been  terrific. 
In  that  hot  July  night  forty  thousand  pounds  of  the  best 
beef  spoiled  as  it  lay  on  the  prairie. 

"  I  dread  the  consequences  of  such  a  headlong  flight 
as  we  had  to-day,"  declared  Colonel  Simmons.  "  How 
did  we  know  but  Indians  might  have  been  chasing  those 
herds?  With  our  officers  gone,  what  an  easy  prey  this 
train  might  have  been  to  an  attack!  I  cannot  longer 
share  the  responsibility." 

"If  any  man  presumes  to  leave  this  camp  without 
permission,  I  will  hang  him  to  the  nearest  tree," 
shouted  General  Gilliam,  endeavoring  to  allay  the  rising 
dissatisfaction. 

At  that  moment  Daniel  Clark  dashed  by.  "  If  any  of 
you  men  or  boys  intend  going  to  Oregon,  come  on ; 
I  'm  going,"  and  away  he  galloped,  unchallenged  and 
unrestrained. 

There  was  a  hush,  and  a  fear  of  trouble.  "  Let  us  be 
careful,  John,  to  say  nothing  to  increase  the  disturbance," 
cautioned  wise  Captain  Morrison.  "We  will  do  our 
duty  just  the  same." 

"  Who  are  you,  going  hunting  without  leave  ?  "  roared 


PIONEER    MOTHERS  129 

the  General  the  next  morning,  as  he  caught  sight  of  a 
horseman  making  for  the  foothills.  "  I  '11  —  " 

"  Now,  Neil,  Neil,  be  careful !  "  It  was  Mrs.  Mary 
Gilliam's  soft  and  gentle  voice,  the  mentor  that  so  often 
restrained  her  husband's  impulsive  spirit.  The  General 
looked  at  his  wife, —  the  lawbreaker  was  her  own  brother. 

"  They  may  all  get  to  Oregon  as  they  can,"  muttered 
the  General  of  this  undisciplined  army.  "  I  will  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  them."  But  the  patient  Cap 
tains,  Shaw  and  Morrison,  took  up  the  burden  he  laid 
down,  and  redoubled  their  vigilance  for  the  safety  of 
the  train. 

"  My  child,  your  leg  is  broken  all  to  pieces." 

Little  Catharine  Sagar,  skipping  in  and  out  of  the 
moving  wagon,  had  gone  under  the  wheels.  Lifting 
her  in,  the  untaught  father  himself  set  the  mashed  and 
mangled  limb.  With  Catharine  moaning  and  groaning 
at  every  jolt,  they  rolled  on  that  night  to  Laramie. 

Hurrying  to  and  fro,  in  another  part  of  the  train  Mr. 
Sagar  found  a  German  doctor,  and  brought  him  up. 
"  Is  that  set  right?" 

"  Could  n't  haf  done  a  better  shob  meself,"  nodded  the 
physician,  tightening  the  bandages. 

Already  in  advance,  Major  Thorp's  Omaha  train  had 
approached  Fort  Laramie.  But  a  warning  had  been  sent 
from  the  fort: 

'*  Come  no  farther.  If  any  one  understands  Sioux,  send  him. 
There  is  a  war  party  here,  I  cannot  understand  why.  Their  place 
at  this  time  of  the  year  is  on  the  Blackfoot  or  Crow  Border.  I 
fear  they  mean  mischief. " 

"  I  will  go,"  Batonne,  a  Frenchman  from  the  Omaha 
crossing,  volunteered.  "  I  know  Bissonette  in  charge  of 
Laramie,  and  I  understand  Sioux."  With  a  small  escort 
he  galloped  ahead.  . 

"  It  always  makes  me  itch  to  see  an  American  horse," 
-  a  young  Sioux  watched  the  approaching  riders,  —  "I 
want  to  ride  it  so  bad." 

"  Wait  a  few  days,"  answered  a  chief  in  his  own 
tongue.  "  The  emigrants  will  come,  and  we  shall  have 

9 


130  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

all    their    horses."      Batonne    heard    and    reported    to 
Bissonette. 

^  Quick    as    thought    Bissonette   summoned   the    chiefs, 
have  important  news  for  you."     A  solemn  council 
gathered,  the  pipe  was  passed,  and  the  master  of  Laramie 
began. 

"  I  have  lived  with  you  now  many  years,  and  have 
always   dealt  honorably." 
'  Yes,"  answered  the  Sioux. 
"  I  have  never  told  you  a  lie." 

"  Never,"  said  the  chiefs. 
c  And  have  been  as  a  brother." 
'  You  have  been  our  white  brother." 
'''  Well,  I  have  just  heard  news  that  is  of  utmost  impor 
tance  to  you.    The  emigrants,  who  come  from  the  sunrise 
and  will  soon  be  here,  have  been  delayed.     A  man  died  ; 
they  buried  him;    he  had  the  smallpox.     I  advise  you,' 
therefore,  to  leave  this  place  as  soon  as  possible,  and  go 
to   your   northern   border,    and   not   return    for   over   a 
month." 

Alarm  was  depicted  on  every  countenance.  Imme 
diately  the  chiefs  departed  to  their  tents;  within  fifteen 
minutes  the  whole  three  thousand  were  on  the  move, 
and  when  Thorp  arrived  not  a  Sioux  was  in  sight. 

The  month  was  up  now,  and  the  rain-delayed  St.  Joe 
train  was  arriving,  festooned  from  end  to  end  with  ropes 
of  buffalo  beef  drying  across  the  wagon-tops.  It  was  ten 
o'clock  at  night  when  the  train  rolled  in. 

"Indians!  See  their  camps ?"  motioned  Uncle  Billy 
Shaw  to  Captain  Morrison.  John  Minto  placed  the 
guard. 

"  Smoke?  smoke?"  Splendidly  dressed  Sioux  came 
to  the  whites  at  sunrise.  Behind,  handsome  banners 
glistened  over  their  tepees,  shining  with  barbaric,  almost 
Asiatic  splendor.  General  Gilliam  took  the  pipe. 

"  Great  chief,"  said  the  Sioux,  when  his  speech  was 
translated.  Still  they  lingered,  until  nervous  mothers 
gave  hot  biscuit  out  of  the  Dutch  ovens",  —  the  beginning 
of  a  custom. 

Some   repairs   must   be   made   to   the   wagons,    some 


PIONEER    MOTHERS  131 

supplies  must  be  purchased.  Prices  at  Laramie  were 
forty  dollars  a  barrel  for  flour,  one  dollar  and  a  half 
a  pint  for  brown  sugar.  All  day  Indian  wives  of  the 
Laramie  traders  came  lingering  to  watch  the  pioneer 
mothers.  Long  and  thoughtfully  they  gazed,  then  one 
dusky  queen  turned  to  her  white  husband,  — "  Anton, 
how  could  you  marry  me,  when  white  women  are  so 
beautiful  ?  " 

"See!  see!  shining  ones!"  With  lifted  hands 
amazed  Indians  watched  little  flaxheads,  towheads,  red 
heads  tripping  in  and  out  of  the  wagons.  A  memor 
able  day  it  was  among  the  Sioux;  some  of  them 
had  never  before  beheld  white  women,  white  children. 
"  Buy!  buy!  "  They  were  bringing  up  beaver-skins  and 
wampum. 

'  They  admire  red  hair,"  laughed  Bissonette,  waving 
them  back.  '  They  wish  to  buy  your  daughters." 

_  The  train  certainly  was  in  a  panicky  condition  that 
night,  —  too  nervous  to  sleep.  "  Let  us  dance,"  said 
Joe  Watt;  and  to  hide  their  vigilant  watching,  Ira 
Bowman  played  the  fiddle,  while  the  young  people 
wheeled  and  circled  under  the  bright  Nebraska  moon. 

Talking  to  the  Great  Spirit,"  whispered  the  Sioux, 
to  whom  dancing  was  an  act  of  worship. 

"  Drive,  drive,  drive !  "  was  the  word  at  daylight  as 
Captain  Morrison  set  out  ahead  to  pick  out  a  safe 
camping  spot. 

"Where  is  Captain  Morrison?  Those  Injuns  will 
certainly  follow  and  attack  us,"  complained  the  worn-out 
train  at  night-time. 

"  Wilson,  where  is  my  gun?"  even  Mrs.  Morrison 
dreaded  the  dark,  when  the  Captain  came. 

'  You  will  not  need  the  gun,  Nancy.  It  is  hanging 
to  the  arch  of  the  little  wagon,  the  pouch  and  powder- 
horn  with  it.  Rees  has  the  rifle."  Wolves,  bears,  and 
buffaloes  prowled  in  the  darkness,  but  all  listened — for 
Indians. 

"  John,  John !  "  Sinking  into  slumber  from  a  weary 
day's  drive,  John  Minto  heard  a  whisper.  In  an  instant 
he  was  on  his  feet. 


132  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  I  know  you  are  just  as  tired  as  the  other  boys,  John," 
began  Mrs.  Shaw  and  Mrs.  Morrison  in  a  breath,  "  but 
there  is  such  a  difference  between  them  when  appealed 
to  for  further  labor  that  we  have  come  to  ask  you  to 
dig  a  grave  for  John  Nichols's  daughter.  She  is  dying." 

"  Certainly,  I  will  dig  the  grave.  Where  can  I  find 
a  pick  and  shovel  ?  " 

"  In  yonder  wagon.  Hurry  to  the  Nichols's  camp," 
whispered  Mrs.  Morrison,  as  the  two  good  women 
disappeared  in  the  darkness. 

"Is  this  the  place?"  Four  or  five  mothers  were 
closing  around  the  end  of  a  wagon  in  which  a  fair 
young  girl  was  breathing  her  last.  "  Took  cold  in 
those  dreadful  rains,"  the  women  said,  holding  up  the 
lantern. 

John  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  snowy  throat  and  half- 
bared  breast  of  one  just  budding  into  womanhood;  his 
heart  trembled.  All  the  memories  of  days  in  the  deep 
coal  mines  of  England  came  back,  where  from  a  lad  of 
eight  for  ten  long  years  he  had  seen  men  burned,  maimed, 
and  crushed  by  falling  rock,  but  nothing,  nothing  like 
this.  She  was  about  the  age  of  Martha  Ann.  One 
shudder,  and  the  marble  form  was  still.  Brief  was  the 
night  funeral. 

"  No,  you  little  girls  cannot  see  her  lowered  into  the 
grave."  Aunt  Sally  Shaw  shoved  gently  back  those 
gathering  to  see  the  last  of  their  playmate  of  the  plains. 
But  ever  in  their  memories  rang  that  mother's  agonizing 
wail,  "Oh,  Betsy,  Betsy!" 

In  the  loose  soil  and  stones  where  she  died  they  laid 
her,  and  built  a  brush  fire  to  conceal  the  spot  from  the 
Sioux. 

"  John,"  Mrs.  Morrison  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder 
one  warm  afternoon,  "  let  me  drive  while  you  go  and  pick 
the  ripest  cherries  you  can  find  for  Mrs.  Sebrean.  The 
doctor  says,  give  her  the  fruit  she  craves ;  it  will  make  no 
difference  as  to  the  result.  She  will  die  anyway." 

"  What !  that  beautiful  Mrs.  Sebrean,  the  most  queenly 
woman  of  this  train  of  eighty-four  wagons  ?  " 

"  Yes ;   she  took  cold  cooking  in  the  rain." 


PIONEER    MOTHERS  133 

The  berries  were  brought,  but  the  young  mother  of 
twenty-eight  died  that  night. 

"  Here,  take  it,"  —  a  snowy  silk  was  rustling  in  the 
moon,  — "  you  must  bury  her  in  my  wedding-dress," 
sobbed  Rachel  Kindred,  handing  over  her  last  treasure 
for  the  winding  sheet  of  her  friend.  "  And  roll  her  in 
this  feather-bed,"  said  Mrs.  Morrison. 

And  others  were  dead,  and  dying,  and  sick  with  camp 
fever  from  exposure  and  weariness.  But  the  buffaloes  — 
the  wild,  ungainly  buffaloes  —  strayed  among  the  cattle, 
and  the  women  wanted  to  hunt!  The  perplexed  buf 
faloes  wheeled,  four  passed  directly  through  the  train 
in  front  of  the  Sagar  wagon.  "  Hand  me  my  gun." 
Though  sick  with  the  mountain  fever,  Mr.  Sagar  dashed 
away. 

"  Henry !  "  called  his  frightened  wife. 

"  I  must  go,  mother;  we  have  no  meat."  And  on  he 
went,  leaving  the  German  doctor  to  drive. 

"  Behold,  the  mountains !  the  mountains !  "  One  day 
involuntarily  the  entire  train  paused,  awed  by  the  splen 
dor  of  the  first  snow  peaks  they  had  ever  seen.  The 
buffalo  region  was  passed,  and  Captain  Morrison, 
foraging  far  ahead,  had  brought  in  a  mountain  sheep. 

"  We  are  out  of  the  Indian  country,"  said  the  Captain. 
"  Mr.  Bush  says  five  hundred  miles  of  buffalo  is  the 
range  of  the  red  man,  to  the  foot  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
He  made  his  money  here  as  a  skilful  trapper." 

The  Great  South  Pass  opened  before  the  emigrants, 
the  wonder  of  the  mountains.  Scarce  knowing  when  they 
passed  the  summit,  the  train  came  over  upon  waters 
flowing  to  the  west. 

"  Look  ahead,  my  children,"  —  Mrs.  Sagar  pointed  a 
waxen  finger,  —  "  yonder  lies  Oregon." 

And  again  it  was  "  John,  John,  can  you  sit  up  part  of 
the  night  with  Mr.  Sagar?  He  is  very  ill."  Aunt  Sally 
Shaw  was  out  again  in  the  night.  "  Mrs.  Sagar  is 
nearly  sick  herself,  but  she  will  see  to  giving  her  husband 
medicine  if  you  will  watch  in  his  tent,  and  tell  her  when 
it  is  time  to  give  it." 

Overheated    by    his    buffalo    chase,    Mr.    Sagar    lay 


MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

burning  up  with  typhoid  fever.  Unconscious,  he  asked 
for  nothing.  The  good  German  doctor,  driving  by 
day  and  nursing  the  sick  by  night,  was  almost  worn 
out. 

"  Mrs.  Sagar,  it  is  time  for  the  medicine." 

Past  midnight  John  gently  woke  the  sleeping  mother. 
She  started  in  fear,-  "Is  he  dead?"  She  hushed  the 
fretful  babe,  and  hurried  to  her  husband's  side.  "  Henry, 
Henry,  dear,  wake,  Henry!"  But  he  answered  not  as 
he  took  the  medicine. 

The  train  crossed  Green  River  and  camped  on  its 
banks.  The  sick  man  opened  his  eyes  in  the  cool  of  the 
evening.  Catharine,  lying  helpless,  caught  his  sight. 

"My  poor  child!  what  will  become  of  you?"  In  a 
frenzy  of  agony  Henry  Sagar  buried  his  face  in  his  pil 
low.  Uncle  Billy  Shaw,  watchful  ever  of  the  tent,  found 
him  weeping  bitterly. 

"  My  last  hour — has  come — Uncle  Billy,  and  my  heart 
is  filled  with  anguish  —  for  my  family.  Catharine  will  be 
a  cripple  for  life.  They  have  no  relatives  —  near  —  and 
a  long  journey  before  them.  Oh,  promise  me  —  promise 
-  that  you  will  take  charge  of  them,  and  see  them  safely 
through !  " 

"  Rest  easy,  Mr.  Sagar,  rest  easy."  Kind  old  Uncle 
Billy  soothed  the  sick  man's  brow.  "  Your  family  shall 
be  to  us  as  our  own.  They  shall  never  be  neglected." 

That  night  Henry  Sagar  died.  In  a  coffin  of  the 
hollowed  logs  they  had  used  that  afternoon  in  the  raft 
they  buried  him,  on  the  banks  of  Green  River. 

"  We  must  get  to  Whitman's  and  Winter  there,"  said 
Mrs.  Sagar,  now  rapidly  failing  under  her  sorrows. 

By  degrees  George  Washington  Bush  had  come  to  be 
guardian  of  the  entire  train.  As  one  who  never  slept, 
he  had  an  eye  on  cattle,  wagons,  and  especially  on 
families  in  want  or  trouble.  Scarce  even  guessing  who 
was  their  benefactor,  he  brought  meat  and  flour  to  the 
Sagar  camp.  And  ever  to  and  fro  hurried  the  pioneer 
mothers  with  pots  of  hot  broth  and  warm  blankets. 
Conspicuous  among  all  were  a  blue-eyed,  stately  woman 
with  auburn  hair,  and  a  little  fat  one  in  black  cap,  snowy 


THE    RACE   FROM    FORT    BRIDGER     135 

kerchief,  and  checked  gingham  apron,  mothering  the  little 
Sagars. 

"  Look,"  the  men  used  to  say;  "  there  go  our  captains' 
wives,  —  the  Sisters  of  Charity." 


Ill 

THE  RACE   FROM   FORT   BRIDGER 

UNCLE  BILLY  SHAW,  a  pioneer  from  boyhood, 
born  on  the  ocean  shores  of  Carolina  and  con 
stantly  beating  west,  became  deeply  interested  in 
the  case  of  George  Washington   Bush.     "  And  so  you 
were  with   Jackson   at   New   Orleans?" 

•"There,   Uncle   Billy?"   ejaculated   the  veteran, 
am  the  man  that  suggested  the  cotton  barricade,  for  well 
I  knew  no  bullet  could  pierce  that  sort  of  armor." 

"  By  the  Lord,  Bush,  that,  won  the  battle  that  day  over 
the  British  redcoats !  " 

"I  know  it  —  know  it,  for  General  Jackson  told  me 
so  himself." 

That  battle  became  a  tie  between  Uncle  Billy  and 
Bush;  indeed,  whoever  came  to  understand  the  shrewd 
sagacity  and  great  liberality  of  the  olive-skinned  hero 
forgot  his  color. 

"  And  how  do  you  think  I  will  stand  in  Oregon,  Uncle 
Billy?" 

"  Don't  ye  worry  about  that,  my  friend ;  Oregon  is 
a  free  country." 

Captain  Morrison,  a  statesman  by  instinct,  pulled  out 
his  prized  manual,  of  civil  government  to  discuss  that 
future  Oregon  with  Uncle  Billy,  Bush,  and  Simmons, 
around  the  evening  camp-fire  in  the  shadow  of  the 
Rockies.  Freedom  blew  from  those  far-off  peaks,  cooling 
alike  the  brow  of  Bush  and  Uncle  Billy. 

"  I   shall    watch   with    care   the    indication    of   public 


136  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

sentiment  in  the  new  settlement  of  Oregon  in  regard 
to  people  of  color,"  said  Bush,  "  and  so  place  myself 
that  I  can  defend  myself  and  my  interests  if  it  proves 
unfriendly." 

"  And,  if  necessary,  you  can  place  yourself  under  the 
protection  of  the  British  and  Canadian  law,"  was  the 
consensus  of  opinion  around  the  camp-fire. 

"Or  seek  the  protection  of  the  Mexican  Government 
in  California  or  New  Mexico,"  added  Bush. 

The  race  into  Oregon  began  at  Fort  Bridger.  A 
plain  path  had  led  them  thus  far,  —  the  path  of  Whit 
man's  train  in  '43.  But  now  provisions  were  failing, 
the  way  grew  dusty.  No  longer  could  little  children 
run  beside  the  wagons  gathering  apron  loads  of  bright- 
hued  flowers;  the  sun  baked  the  very  earth. 

"  Get  up,  Martha  Ann ;  you  can  find  some  water  now," 
whispered  Mr.  Kindred,  passing  with  his  pail  by  her 
corner  of  the  tent.  In  the  desert  Captain  Morrison  often 
dug  out  springs  and  left  them  to  fill.  Quietly  the  girl 
slipped  out  under  the  waning  stars  and  filled  her  little 
bucket ;  afar  an  Indian  saw,  and  came  racing  to  the  spot. 
With  amazed  eyes  Martha  Ann  saw  him  leap  from  his 
horse,  and  with  both  hands  scraping  the  bottom  of  the 
spring,  gulp  sand,  dirt,  rocks,  and  all  in  his  famishing 
thirst.  Up  every  morning  before  daylight,  Martha  Ann 
and  Mary  Ellen  were  baking  sour-milk  biscuits  for  the 
day  by  the  fire  of  sage,  while  their  mother  milked  the 
cows,  and  the  men  looked  after  the  stock.  However 
early  the  boys  made  their  rounds,  Martha  Ann  was  sure 
to  be  at  her  baking  first,  and  at  the  stock  corral  George 
Washington  Bush  was  always  on  foot,  —  a  sentry  that 
never  slept. 

"  They  will  make  good  wives,  whoever  gets  them," 
whispered  Rees  to  John  Minto,  as  they  glanced  back 
over  their  shoulders  at  the  rosy  cheeks  by  the  camp-fire. 

Long  before  dawn  reddened  the  hills  the  milk  was  in 
the  churn  to  bounce  up  hill,  down  dale,  into  a  ball  of 
sweet  butter  for  supper.  The  tablecloth  was  snatched 
from  the  grass,  and  the  last  tin  plate  was  tucked  away 
as  the  train  rolled  out  to  catch  the  cool  of  the  morning. 


THE    RACE    FROM    FORT    BRIDGER     137 

"  Mary  Ellen,  I  reckon  you  and  Martha  Ann  '11  have 
to  ride  horseback  or  walk,"  said  Mr.  Morrison.  '  These 
footsore  oxen  are  hardly  able  to  crawl." 

Hot  and  hotter  beat  the  sun  on  the  tired  girls  in  the 
saddle,  to  whom  heaven  lay  just  under  the  edge  of  a 
wagon  cover.  At  last,  overwearied,  down  from  the  stir 
rups  they  slid,  only  to  shrink  from  scorched  shoes  and 
burnt  feet  in  the  hot  volcanic  ash  of  the  roadside.  Mrs. 
Sagar  was  delirious.  The  nights  were  cold,  the  days 
suffocating  with  alkali,  that  blistered  and  excoriated  the 
tender  skin  of  women.  Every  evening  Aunt  Sally  Shaw 
and  Mrs.  Morrison  came  in  to  wash  the  dust  from  Mrs. 
Sagar's  face.  Long  since  they  had  taken  charge  of  the 
wailing  babe. 

"  Whitman's  —  if  we  can  only  get  to  Whitman's !  " 
she  groaned. 

"  A  terrible  road  to-day,  —  the  worst  we  have 
travelled,"  said  Uncle  Billy. 

"  Oh,  Henry,  if  you  only  knew  how  much  we  have 
suffered,"  moaned  Mrs.  Sagar.  They  were  her  last 
words;  that  night  she  died.  A  grave  was  lined  with 
willow  brush,  and  they  laid  her  there,  uncoffined,  in  the 
desert.  The  kind  German  doctor  went  on  with  the 
weeping  children.  Uncle  Billy  and  his  wife  watched 
them  day  and  night,  —  in  fact,  the  seven  orphans  were 
adopted  by  the  entire  train. 

Better  even  than  he  knew,  Captain  Wyeth  had  builded 
when  he  chose  the  banks  of  the  green  Port  Neuf  for 
Fort  Hall.  In  eight  years  that  fort  had  become  an  in 
dispensable  source  of  supplies  for  overland  emigration. 
In  the  heart  of  the  old  war  ground  of  Snakes,  Crows, 
and  Blackfeet  it  stood,  the  first  pillar  of  civilization 
among  the  fighting  tribes. 

"Can  we  take  our  wagons  to  the  Columbia  River?" 
inquired  a  Baptist  preacher  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  magnate 
in  charge  at  Fort  Hall. 

"Do  not  ask  me,"  growled  Captain  Grant,  in  great 
irritation.  "Last  year  men  came  here,  just  as  you  do 
now,  Mr.  Cave,  and  asked  the  same  question.  I  told 
them  they  could  not  get  through  with  their  wagons,  — 


138  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

we  found  it  difficult  to  pass  with  pack-ponies.  They 
went  on,  however,  just  as  though  I  had  not  spoken.  The 
next  I  heard  of  them  they  had  reached  Walla  Walla  and 
the  Dalles.  You  d — d  Yankees  can  go  anywhere  you 
want  to." 

"  He  pours  on  cold  water  by  the  barrelful,"  muttered 
Gilliam  between  his  teeth,  turning  away. 

But  a  letter  was  there,  from  Burnett  of  '43 : 

"If  from  any  cause  there  is  likely  to  be  suffering  before  your 
emigration  can  reach  the  Willamette,  let  it  be  known.  Relief  will 
be  sent." 

"Cheer  up,  boys.  I  know  Burnett.  He's  all  right. 
Come  on,"  shouted  Gilliam. 

It  was  six  hundred  miles  to  the  Willamette,  as  far  yet 
as  the  famous  first  trans- Alleghanians  crossed  into  "  the 
far  Kentuckie  "  sixty  years  before,  —  six  hundred  miles 
of  desert,  mount,  and  raging  rivers,  surpassing  anything 
yet  encountered.  But  none  realized  that.  In  fact,  some 
expected  to  embark  on  the  tortuous,  tumultuous  Snake, 
and  float  to  the  Columbia  and  the  sea. 

"  These  families  are  short  of  food ;  had  n't  we  better 
strike  on  ahead  ?  "  Dan  Clark,  Sam  Crockett,  and  John 
Minto  consulted  apart. 

No  word  was  sent,  no  appeal,  but  the  three  daring 
volunteers  rode  out  at  daylight  with  only  a  bit  of 
pemmican,  bought  at  the  fort,  and  their  guns  to 
depend  on. 

" Boys, "-—the  ever  watchful  George  Washington  Bush, 

in  his  shirt  sleeves,  followed  them  out  from  his  wagon, 

—"boys,  you  are  going  through  a  hard  country.     You 

have  guns  and  ammunition.     Take  my  advice;    anything 

you  see  as  big  as  a  blackbird,  kill  it,  and  eat  it." 

That  day  three  grouse  were  seen,  and  no  more  to  the 
end.  They  had  entered  the  great  sage  plains  of  the 
Snake,  where  Indians  were  harvesting  grasshoppers. 
The  three  boys  riding  light  passed  Ford's  company,  from 
Independence,  passed  Thorp's  company,  from  Omaha, 
passed  Woodcock's  company,  from  St.  Joe,  and  struck 
into  the  Blue  Mountains. 


THE    RACE    FROM    FORT    BRIDGER     139 

'"  We  Ve  got  to  do  something  with  these  children," 
Uncle  Billy  Shaw  decided,  after  leaving  Fort  Hall. 
"  They  are  plumb  out  of  provisions,  and  their  team  is 
wearing  out." 

So  the  Sagar  wagon  was  made  into  a  two-wheeled 
cart;  the  precious  carpet,  dishes,  trunks,  —  everything 
that  could  be  spared,  —  were  dumped  on  the  wayside  to 
lighten  up,  and  with  the  advance  team  of  Captain  Shaw 
they  were  hurried  on  to  Whitman's. 

''Bless  me,  bless  me!  don't  I  hear  a  child  crying?" 
In  the  middle  of  an  October  night  in  the  Blue  Moun 
tains  Captain  Shaw  found  one  of  the  little  Sagar  children 
out  of  the  wagon,  crying  with  cold. 

"  Donncr  und  bliteen!  "  exclaimed  the  faithful  German 
doctor  at  daylight.  Francis  Sagar,  trying  to  build  a 
fire  of  wet  wood,  hoped  to  help  by  pouring  a  few  grains 
from  his  powder-horn.  It  exploded,  —  the  boy  was  left 
to  tell  the  tale  with  a  blackened  face  full  of  gunpowder. 

"  Ach,  mcin  Gott!  "  Little  Elizabeth,  too  near  the  fire, 
set  her  clothes  in  a  blaze,  but  the  good  doctor  saved  her 
by  scorching  his  hands  to  a  blister. 

"  Frank,  gallop  ahead  and  bring  us  some  food  from 
Dr.  Whitman's,"  cried  Uncle  Billy,  hurrying  the  chil 
dren's  cart  on  as  fast  as  he  could.  And  three  clays  later : 
"  Madame,  can  you  look  after  an  orphan  family  until  I 
can  locate  on  the  Willamette?"  Uncle  Billy  himself 
stood  white-haired  and  suppliant  t  at  the  Whitman  door. 

Narcissa  Whitman,  at  Waiilatpu,  near  Walla  Walla, 
already  had  adopted  several  children,  and  daily  taught 
dozens  more  from  the  neighboring  tepees.  And  now: 
"  Bring  them  on,"  both  the  Doctor  and  his  wife  decided 
when  the  story  was  told.  Slowly  the  cart  rolled  in. 
Exhausted,  the  oxen  sank  the  moment  their  necks  were 
unyoked.  Tanned  into  little  Indians,  with  straggling 
hair  cut  in  uneven  locks  where  brother  John  had  tried 
to  "  fix  them  up,"  the  seven  little  orphans  came  to  their 
new  home.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Whitman  adopted  them  all. 

Hard  and  slow  had  been  the  continental  march.  Food 
failed  in  the  Blue  Mountains,  strong  men  were  starving, 
cattle  were  dying,  there  was  danger  of  snow  and  a 


140  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Winter  in  the  Indian  country  without  provisions,  de 
fence,  or  shelter.  Some  fathers  had  gone  ahead  with 
only  a  gun  in  hand  for  game,  and  a  biscuit  or  two  in 
their  pockets,  in  hopes  of  finding  supplies  and  returning 
for  their  families.  Some  turned  off  to  Whitman's,  already 
thronged  with  the  sick  and  distressed;  others  pressed 
down  the  last  three-hundred-mile  stretch  along  the 
Columbia. 

"  Indians !  Indians !  "  Mrs.  McAllister,  guarding  chil 
dren,  wagons,  and  cattle  while  her  husband  was  crossing 
the  swift  Des  Chutes  with  part  of  their  effects,  was  at 
tacked  by  savages,  who  tried  to  steal  her  last  remnant 
of  food.  The  pioneer  mother  seized  an  axe  and  drove 
the  banditti  from  camp. 

Mrs.  Morrison  screamed,  "  They  are  driving  off  our 
stock !  "  As  her  husband  ran,  a  red  rascal  seized  the 
lead  ox  to  turn  the  Morrison  wagon  over  a  steep  bank. 
Stoutly  Nancy  Morrison  plied  the  whip  around  his  head. 

"  White  squaws  light !  "  complained  the  Indians,  in 
fierce  anger.  That  night  every  man  stood  by  his  rifle. 

"What!  Shot  the  Cascades?"  exclaimed  Dr.  Mc- 
Loughlin,  when  Dan  Clark  appeared  at  Vancouver  ahead 
of  all  the  trains  of  '44.  "  It  is  a  feat  that  cannot  be  done 
in  safety  once  in  a  thousand  times !  "  In  a  flash  the  old 
Doctor  recalled  last  year's  disaster,  when  the  train  of  '43 
came  rafting  down  the  river,  and  some  were  lost  in  its 
delusive  bosom ;  and  now,  here  another  daring,  impatient 
American  alone  in  a  canoe  had  shot  the  Cascades ! 

"  Provisions  and  a  boat  ?  Yes,  young  man,  I  will  lend 
a  bateau,  but  I  advise  you  to  take  it  above  the  Cascades, 
and  bring  all  the  people  down  to  that  point,  —  not  your 
friends  only,  —  and  I  '11  see,  —  I  '11  see  they  are  brought 
from  there,"  was  the  Doctor's  proposition.  "  But  look 
out  for  Cape  Horn ;  it 's  a  tricky  spot  in  a  squall.  The 
winds  and  waves  there  often  hold  our  voyageurs  bound 
for  weeks  at  a  time." 

"  What !  Only  three  of  you  going  to  take  that  bateau 
up  to  the  Cascades?"  gasped  the  clerk  when  Crockett 
and  Minto  appeared. 

"  Yes,"  Clark  assented,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye. 


THE  RACE  FROM  FORT  BRIDGER  141 

"Why,  to  reach  the  upper  portage  is  deemed  a  three 
days'  job  for  seven  of  our  Canadian  boatmen,  —  six  at 
the  oars  and  a  captain  to  steer,  —  and  they  are  experts. 
Three  boys  never  can  handle  that  bateau." 

"  Hoist  sail !  "  —  Clark,  the  ferryman,  had  no  time 
for  parley.  Before  the  wind  the  bellying  canvas  bore 
them  up  the  Columbia,  up,  up  the  very  Cascades  them 
selves  to  the  upper  portage  on  the  night  of  the  third  day, 
—  a  feat  unknown  before  or  after  until  the  days  of 
steam  navigation  on  the  Columbia  River.  And  it  was 
time.  Strong  hands  were  waiting  to  cordell  the  heavy 
bateau  over  the'last  mad  third  of  a  mile  to  the  waiting, 
hungry  immigrants  above.  John  Minto  almost  flew  to 
find  his  friends  —  and  Martha  Ann,  whose  image  lingered 
ever  in  his  dreams. 

"  Mrs.  Morrison !  " 

With  her  auburn  hair  drenched  in  the  falling  rain, 
upon  a  rock,  with  her  children  around  her,  sat  Mrs. 
Morrison.  "What  is  your  situation?"  quickly  he 
inquired.  "Where  is  Mr.  Morrison?" 

"  Wilson  is  in  the  mountains,  trying  to  recover  the 
cattle,  scattered  by  a  snowstorm.  We  are  in  dire  straits, 
waiting  for  the  boats  to  take  us  below.  Last  night  I 
traded  my  last  dress  to  an  Indian  for  a  peck  of  potatoes, 
which  we  divided  with  others  as  destitute  as  ourselves. 
There  is  not  a  single  thing  in  camp  for  supper.  George 
Waunch  has  joined  us,  and  is  put  trying  to  kill  some 
ducks." 

With  swift  feet  John  brought  up  the  provisions  he 
had  purchased  of  Dr.  McLoughlin;  even  these  Mrs. 
Morrison  shared  with  her  neighbors.  Close  by,  on  an 
other  rock,  oblivious  of  the  icy  rain  pattering  in  his  face, 
lay  the  father  of  four  starving  children,  utterly  prostrated 
by  the  hardships  of  the  last  few  days. 

"  Mrs.  Morrison,  I  must  leave  you.  We  promised 
Dr.  McLoughlin  to  go  on  to  the  Dalles,  and  aid  in  bring 
ing  down  as  many  as  possible.  He  will  send  up  boats." 
As  he  spoke,  John's  eye  was  fixed  on  Martha,  —  so  near 
and  yet  so  far,  —  shielded  ever  by  maternal  solicitude 
that  never  left  her  out  of  sight. 


142  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Hurrying  on,  a  group  hailed  the  boys  at  the  mouth 
of     Hood     River.        '  Yes  —  been     with     Morrison  - 
extricating  cattle  —  driving  back  —  can't  get  'em  down." 

Rough  had  been  that  ramble :  one  had  gone  insane  in 
the  snowy  mountains.  "  We  have  no  food,  we  are  sep 
arated  from  our  herds  by  swollen  streams  and  a  dense 
snowstorm."  Tears  flowed  down  the  cheeks  of  John 
Gerrish,  a  handsome  boy  of  eighteen.  They  were  eating 
the  last  of  his  favorite  hunting  dog  for  supper. 

"Was  it  good?" 

'  Yes,"  smiles  breaking  through  tear-streaked  smut  of 
the  camp-fire,  "  it  was  good." 

The  Dalles  of  the  Columbia  had  become  a  great  camp. 

"  Here  is  a  present  of  provisions  that  Dr.  McLoughlin 
sent  up  to  General  Gilliam  with  his  compliments." 

Instantly  across  more  than  one  flashed  the  camp-fire 
traditions  of  Gilliam's  sister,  Aunt  Sally  Shaw,  "  My 
grandfather  and  his  five  brothers  and  all  their  friends 
fought  against  the  British." 

"  Ah,"  joked  a  nephew,  "  I  '11  allow  these  things  were 
sent  as  a  bribe  for  Uncle  Neil's  good  behavior." 

"  Well,"  retorted  the  General,  "  I  have  no  objections 
to  living  in  peace  with  the  Hudson  Bay  Company,  but 
if  they  attempt  to  cut  up  any  rustics  with  me,  I  '11 
knock  their  old  stockade  about  their  ears,  bribe  or  no 
bribe." 

"  We  will  stay  here  at  the  Methodist  Mission  this 
Winter,"  quavered  Uncle  Billy  Shaw,  with  visible  agita 
tion.  "  Our  Tom  is  down  with  typhoid  fever.  Mr. 
Waller,  the  missionary,  is  doing  everything  he  can  for 


us." 


Many  a  head  was  shaken.  '  Tom  Shaw  is  on  his 
death-bed." 

"  And  I  shall  stay  to  look  after  the  cattle,"  declared 
George  Washington  Bush. 

With  the  running  gear  of  three  wagons  in  their  boat, 
and  seventeen  persons,  young  and  old,  on  top  of  that, 
Clark  and  Crockett  and  Minto  set  out  down  the  billowy 
Columbia.  Behind  followed  other  boats,  improvised  rafts 
of  dry  logs,  laden  to  the  water's  edge  with  tired  women. 


THE    RACE   FROM    FORT    BRIDGER     143 

crying  babies,  and  wide-eyed  boys  and  girls,  ragged,  bare 
footed,  and  tanned,  whose  grandchildren  generations 
hence  should  delight  to  hear  that  tale  of  "  coming  down 
the  Columbia."  Forty  miles  landed  all  at  the  Cascades. 
"  What,  unload  again  ?  "  grumbled  Gilliam. 

"  Dare  not  risk  this  load  in  the  rapids,"  Dan  Clark 
flung  back  from  his  steering  oar. 

"  River  cuts  right  through  the  mountains,  sir,"  put  in 
John  Minto.  "  The  Cascade  range  is  higher  than  the 
Rockies." 

Over  the  jagged  rocks,  with  armloads  of  bundles  and 
bedding,  walked  the  almost  barefooted  mothers  and 
children,  while  stout  cords  let  down  the  cumbersome 
bateau  to  launch  in  the  current  below. 

:<  This  is  Cape  Horn,  the  Wind  Mountain  where  voy- 
ageurs  stick,  —  and  some  emigrants,"  sang  Clark  as  they 
neared  the  narrow  gorge  of  the  Columbia  gap. 

"Danger!  danger!"  Indians  hugging  the  southern 
shore  waved  wildly  from  a  canoe.  A  sudden  squall  rolled 
up  from  the  west,  of  the  very  sort  predicted  by  Dr. 
McLoughlin.  Already  in  the  distance  a  threatening  bank 
of  fog  and  mist  met  the  sky.  Driven  before  it,  troops  of 
bald  eagles  wheeled  and  screamed,  and  darted  from  clouds 
above  to  white-capped  waves  below. 

"  Land,  quick,  on  this  spit  at  the  south !  "  cried  Sam 
Crockett. 

"  No,  the  northern  shore !  "  Dan  Clark  at  the  helm 
turned  to  cross  in  front  of  the  storm. 

"  The  south !  the  south !  "  Wildly  Minto  endeavored 
to  row  the  other  way.  Already  the  swell  was  rocking 
the  boat. 

"  I  tell  you  to  land  at  the  south !  "  screamed  Crockett. 
Still  Clark,  controlling  the  helm,  steered  for  the  north. 

Fast,  faster  advanced  the  white  terror,  striking  amid 
ships  and  sending  a  sheet  of  spray  above  and  over.  Low 
down  the  boat  careened  behind  a  billow;  the  Indians 
gazed,  then,  horrified,  shot  away  down  the  river. 

*  They  were  all  drowned ;  we  saw  a  whole  boat-load 
go  down  into  the  skookum  chuck  (the  strong  water)  at 
Cape  Horn,"  was  their  report  at  the  settlements. 


144  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

But  the  boat  did  not  go  down.  On  the  very  crest  of 
the  rampant  wave  it  beached  on  the  northern  shore  in 
safety.  Silent  through  all  sat  Mrs.  McAllister,  hugging 
her  little  ones.  First  to  step  out,  the  four  children  were 
passed  to  her,  when,  white  with  suppressed  emotion,  she 
turned  to  the  steersman. 

"  Dan  Clark,  I  have  been  your  good  friend ;  but  you 
have  just  put  my  children  in  danger  without  reason,  and 
I  never  wish  to  speak  to  you  again. " 

Clark's  rosy  face  blanched  white  as  chalk. 

"  I  had  a  reason,  Mrs.  McAllister.  From  this  side  a 
trail  leads  directly  down  to  Fort  Vancouver,  where,  in 
case  we  are  stormbound,  relief  can  be  obtained;  but  last 
year  a  party  on  the  south  side  were  obliged  to  boil  up 
their  buffalo  hides  for  soup,  before  any  word  could  be 
got  to  the  fort." 

Unsheltered  in  the  sweeping  rain,  the  dry  sticks  and 
leaves  of  a  huge  woodrat's  nest  made  possible  a  rousing 
fire.  Morning  found  their  blankets  white  with  snow. 

"  Hello !  hello !  will  you  come  on  board  and  pass 
the  night?"  Lieutenant  William  Gushing,  of  the  brig 
"  Chenamus,"  riding  at  anchor  in  the  mouth  of  the 
Willamette,  called  out  two  days  later  to  a  bateau-load 
passing  by.  "  Captain  Couch,  of  this  ship,  has  gone  up 
to  Oregon  City,  and  I  am  in  charge.  You  shall  be  my 
guests  for  the  night.  Ho,  cook,  a  hot  supper!  and, 
steward,  beds  for  our  friends !  "  Every  homesick  Yankee 
tar  hailed  the  drenched  Missourians  clambering  on  ship 
board.  Gladly  would  they  have  kissed  these,  the  first 
white  women  they  had  seen  in  a  year. 

Lieutenant  dishing,  of  Newburyport,  a  nephew  of 
Caleb  Cushing,  of  Congress,  had  been  sent  to  Oregon 
to  look  up  commercial  possibilities  and  indications  of 
trouble  over  the  boundary.  John  Minto's  glad  eye 
glanced  around  —  and  beheld  Martha  Ann. 

"  We  have  certainly  reached  the  treasure  ship,"  thought 
Mrs.  Morrison  the  next  morning,  when  the  sailor  boys 
came  flocking  to  exchange  coffee,  sugar,  and  cocoanuts 
for  the  soft  warm  socks  she  had  knit  on  the  plains.  Dusty 
days  were  knit  into  those  socks,  and  long  drowsy  hours 


THE    RACE    FROM    FORT    BRIDGER     145 

of  the  train  trailing  west,  ever  west,  to  meet  the  sea. 
Kedging  their  brig  up  the  Willamette,  merrily  now  the 
sailors  sang: 

"  Where  have  you  been  all  the  day, 
Bonny  laddie,  sailor  laddie, 
Where  have  you  been  all  the  day, 
My  bonny  sailor  laddie,  O  ? 
I  've  been  up  and  down  the  quay, 
To  catch  a  sight  of  little  May, 
But  oh,  she  's  a  young  thing, 
And  cannot  leave  her  mammy,  O, 
Her  mammy,  O — O,  her  mammy,  O — O  her  mammy." 

Like  angelic  bells  or  bugles,  into  the  hearts  of  the  weary 
immigrants  trilled  this  greeting  from  the  sea.  And  all 
day  long  waved  and  -fluttered  and  flamed  the  flag,  the 
flag! 

"  You  had  better  leave  us  and  hurry  on  into  Oregon," 
away  back  on  Burnt  River  said  the  man  for  whom  Joe 
Watt  had  driven.  "  Provisions  are  getting  scarce;  we 
shall  need  all  there  is  for  the  children." 

"  All  right.  I  can  take  care  of  myself."  Without  a 
morsel  of  food,  Joe  Watt  and  Elisha  Bowman  struck 
out  with  their  rifles,  —  and  Joe's  boots. 

"  If  we  could  only  eat  the  boots !  "  sighed  Joe.  Bare 
to  the  knees  from  continually  cutting  off  his  pants  to 
mend  his  moccasins,  whistling  he  strode  through  the 
lacerating  sage-brush. 

Now  there  was  a  bite  in  an  emigrant  camp,  and  now 
there  was  none.  In  a  snowstorm  they  climbed  the  Blue 
Mountains. 

'  Yes,"  speculated  the  romantic  Bowman,  two  days 
without  food,  trudging  along  barefooted  in  the  snow, 
"  I  can  see  plenty  of  ways  for  making  money  when  we 
get  to  Oregon.  Now  there  's  — 

"  Stop,  'Lish ;  don't  you  see  we  will  never  get  through  ? 
We  are  lost  in  these  mountains !  The  deep  snow  has 
covered  up  the  trace."  But  pressing  on  instinctively 
where  a  depression  showed,  they  came  on  down  to  the 
hospitable  camp  of  General  Gilliam.  From  Gilliam's 

10 


146  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

table  each  bore  away  a  treasured  bit  of  bacon  in  his 
bosom. 

Indians  threatened  the  ragged  Watt,  when  over  a  hill 
Alder  Neil  appeared  with  all  his  possessions  and  three 
little  children  on  a  sore-backed  pony,  —  their  mother 
had  died  on  the  plains.  Together  they  passed  on  down 
to  the  Dalles. 

"  How  are  you  going  to  get  down,"  inquired  the 
boatmen,  when  every  other  eager  passenger  had  piled 
on  the  Hudson  Bay  bateau  sent  up  by  Dr.  McLoughlin. 
Alone  on  the  shore  stood  Joe  Watt.  "  How  are  you 
going  to  get  down  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Have  you  any  provisions?  " 

"  No,  nothing." 

"  Can  you  sing,  or  tell  yarns?  " 

"  Yes,  both." 

"  Very  well,  climb  onto  the  bow  of  that  boat."  And 
they  started. 

"  Well,  Figure  Head,  pipe  up,"  was  the  present 
demand. 

With  sad  and  solemn  eyes,  without  a  smile,  Joe  sang, 
told  stories;  everybody  laughed,  everybody  screamed; 
the  weary  immigrants  needed  entertainment,  and  Joe 
was  a  born  comedian.  Again  and  again  some  favorite 
song  rang  over  the  river,  until  the  boy  on  the  bow  was 
hoarse  with  singing. 

With  all  the  straggling,  dirty  train,  Joe  Watt  landed 
at  the  Falls  of  the  Willamette,  beginning  to  be  called 
Oregon  City.  Joe's  buckskin  pants,  wet  and  dried  from 
wading  creeks  and  rivers,  were  shrivelled  and  cracking, 
and  his  hat  was  minus  a  crown. 

"  Tut !  tut !  tut !  "  Dr.  McLoughlin  eyed  him  askance. 
"  What  people  these  Americans  are,  —  wandering  vaga 
bonds  across  a  continent.  What  are  they  coming  here 
for?" 

The  Doctor  was  building  a  flour-mill  at  the  Falls. 
Joe,  a  carpenter  and  bricklayer,  was  engaged  with 
misgivings. 

"Ho,  ho,  ragamuffin!"  jeered  his  fellow-laborers. 


A    SON    OF    HAM  147 

At  night  Joe  slept  in  the  shavings.  The  first  pay  day 
he  was  rich.  With  twelve  dollars  in  hand,  clothes,  soap, 
Hudson  Bay  blankets  were  his,  —  never  blankets  felt 
so  soft.  Passing  his  hand  thoughtfully  over  the  wool, 
within  sound  of  the  potential  falls,  a  great  idea  came  into 
the  heart  of  Joseph  Watt,  —  "  /  will  found  woollen  mills 
on  this  Pacific  coast." 

Quick  and  nervy,  a  resolute  little  woman,  Rachel  Kin 
dred  had  walked  across  the  Blue  Mountains,  with  a  child 
in  her  arms,  to  lighten  the  load  for  the  failing  oxen. 
Down  the  Columbia,  with  the  bottoms  of  her  shoes  gone, 
five  miles  in  the  rain  she  tramped  around  the  portage  at 
the  Cascades  in  her  stocking  feet.  On  Christmas  Eve, 
when  they  reached  camp,  her  second  son  was  born. 


IV 

A   SON   OF   HAM 

"  ^  |  ^HAT  colored  man  will  have  trouble;  he  can't 
come  into  Oregon."  Colonel  Simmons  over- 
-•-  heard,  and  fired  at  the  words  of  a  politician 
coming  up  the  Columbia. 

"  Can't  come  ?  Who,  in  God's  name,  is  going  to  stop 
him,  —  the  man  that 's  done  more  for  this  emigration 
than  any  other  in  it?  Is  n't  Oregon  a  free  country?  " 

"  Ye-es,  the  law  declares  that  slavery  and  involuntary 
servitude  shall  be  forever  prohibited ;  but  it  also  excludes 
free  negroes  and  mulattoes;  forbids  their  holding  prop 
erty  or  even  coming  into  Oregon.  The  fact  is,  friend, 
half  the  people  here  have  left  the  South  to  get  away  from 
slavery.  I  'm  from  Kentucky,  originally,  myself." 

"  Well,  sir,"  thundered  Simmons  in  his  ear,  "  I  can 
tell  you  that  George  Washington  Bush  may  have  a  colored 
skin,  but  no  man  has  a  whiter  heart,  and  the  emigrants 
of  '44  will  not  permit  him  to  be  misused." 


148  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

With  eager  eye  Bush  had  watched  the  stranger  and  his 
friend,  instinctively  divining  the  subject  of  their  conver 
sation.  How  often,  oh,  how  often  would  George  Wash 
ington  Bush  have  skinned  himself  alive  to  get  rid  of  that 
touch  of  Africa!  Presently,  approaching,  he  volunteered 
to  go  back  and  guard  the  cattle  at  the  Dalles. 

"  Very  well,"  quickly  responded  Simmons,  "  you  go 
back,  Mr.  Bush.  The  rest  better  halt  right  here,  now, 
and  establish  their  Winter  quarters  at  the  mouth  of  this 
little  river,  —  the  Washougal,  did  they  call  it  ?  I  '11 
interview  them  God  Almighty  nabobs  down  below." 

"  Gee,  Dick !  haw,  Tom !  "  with  a  crack  of  his  long 
ox-whip  Colonel  Simmons  pulled  out  for  Fort  Vancou 
ver.  "  I  '11  find  out  whether  George  Washington  Bush 
can  live  in  this  country,"  he  muttered  as  he  creaked  away. 
"  Forbids  his  holding  property !  Huh !  the  richest  man 
that  ever  came  to  Oregon." 

"Where  do  you  expect  to.  settle?"  inquired  Dr.  Mc- 
Loughlin  when  muddy  and  travel-worn.  Colonel  Simmons 
appeared  at  the  gate,  and  asked  for  a  room  for  himself 
and  family. 

"  Well,  sir,  before  I  left  Missouri  I  had  thought  of 
the  Rogue  River  country,  but  now,  on  some  accounts, 
my  attention  has  been  turned  to  the  region  of  Puget 
Sound." 

"  By  all  means,  my  dear  sir,  I  advise  the  Willamette 
Valley,"  urged  the  Doctor  in  persuasive  tone.  "  The 
Rogue  is  too  wild,  the  Indians  too  treacherous,  but  the 
Willamette  is  rapidly  becoming  an  American  centre." 

"  Jest  why  I  don't  want  to  go  thar.  I  want  to  git 
away  from  a  centre,  an'  I  hear  that  the  Sound  —  " 

Instantly  the  Doctor  was  hostile.  "  Sir,  Puget  Sound 
is  British  territory.  The  Columbia  River  will  be  the 
boundary.  If  you  settle  in  the  Willamette,  I  can  help 
you  some,  but  if  any  attempt  is  made  on  the  Sound, 
I  can  do  nothing  at  all  for  you,  not  even  give  you  a 


room." 


The  combative  instinct  of  Michael  Simmons  kindled 
at  the  words.  Irritated  and  suspicious,  he  thundered 
back  as  loudly  as  had  McLoughlin :  "  It  must  be  a  mighty 


A    SON    OF    HAM  149 

fine  lay-out  over  there  if  you  set  such  store  by  it !  Any 
how,  I  shall  take  a  look  at  that  country,  if  I  have  to  fight 
my  way  there." 

Among  the  Canadians  Colonel  Simmons  went,  and  to 
the  Kanaka  servants,  in  their  little  log  huts  outside  the 
stockade,  a  village  of  vassals  clustered  under  the  guns 
of  Vancouver. 

"  Yah,  yah,  yah,"  one  old  Kanaka  would  rent  half  his 
cabin  for  a  month.  Leaving  wife  and  children,  in  a  day 
or  two  Simmons,  with  five  companions,  was  on  his  way 
to  Puget  Sound. 

"  Beats  anything  I  ever  saw !  "  ejaculated  McLoughlin, 
when  he  discovered  this  manoeuvre.  "  When  I  tell  our 
Canadians  to  stop,  they  stop,  but  these  Americans  go 
right  on  as  if  I  had  not  spoken.  Tourawhyheene,  why 
did  you  rent  him  your  cabin  ?  "  The  Kanaka  exhibited 
a  yellow  shirt. 

Up  the  torrential  Cowlitz,  white  with  glacial  silt  and 
volcanic  ash  from  Mount  Rainier,  paddled  those  obsti 
nate  Americans.  It  was  a  discouraging  pull  against  the 
plunging  waters.  With  provisions  all  but  exhausted  and 
the  men's  muscles  tense  to  stem  the  wild  on-rush  of  the 
mountain  flood,  the  boats  reached  the  forks  of  the  Cow 
litz.  Beyond  lay  forbidding  hills  interlaced  with  forests, 
—  an  apparently  chaotic,  impassible  jungle. 

"Stop!  I  know  this  place!"  cried  the  Colonel.  "In 
a  vision,  before  I  left  Missouri,  I  was  forewarned  that 
I  should  find  jest  such  a  fork  as  this,  jest  such  woods  an' 
hills  an'  rapids  an'  rains,  an'  have  to  turn  back.  This 
is  the  identical  spot  I  saw  in  that  dream." 

It  was  useless,  indeed  dangerous,  to  laugh  or  discredit 
the  Colonel.  "  Solemnly,  boys,  we  must  go  back,"  and 
wisely  the  explorer  retreated  from  the  wildest  Winter 
tributary  of  the  Columbia. 

"  Oh,  I  knew  you  could  not  get  up,"  beamed  the  Doctor 
when  Simmons  reported  failure  at  the  Fort.  "  I  spoke 
for  your  own  best  interest.  We  never  make  that  journey 
except  in  cases  of  absolute  necessity.  And  now,  what 
supplies  do  you  require?"  The  entire  commissary  was 
at  Simmons's  command. 


150  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  But,  Doctor,  how  can  we  pay  you  ?  We  have  no 
wheat,  no  furs.  How  about  shingles?" 

"  Shingles  ?  I  will  pay  you  four  dollars  a  thousand 
for  all  you  can  land  at  Vancouver.  We  might  use  a 
few." 

Little  did  Dr.  McLoughlin  realize  the  extent  of  that 
shingle  deal.  Forthwith  the  Oregon  woods  rained 
shingles,  snowed  shingles,  shingles  were  to  be  stacked 
in  the  old  fort  yard  until  they  towered  above  the  ware 
houses,  shingles  were  to  go  out  in  every  Hudson  Bay 
bark  until  Honolulu  was  glutted  with  shingles;  and  still 
the  Americans  brought  shingles. 

With  lightened  heart,  full  of  gratitude  to  the  old 
Hudson  Bay  Factor,  and  yet  with  purpose  unswerved, 
Colonel  Michael  Simmons  and  family  retraced  their  way 
to  Washougal. 

"Make  shingles?"  exclaimed  the  families  in  that 
Winter  rendezvous.  "  Gladly."  Within  twenty-four 
hours  Washougal  resolved  itself  into  a  great  shingle 
camp  for  the  Winter. 

"  Foolishest  move  ever  made  in  my  life,"  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Cave  was  saying,  as  he  and  his  wife  floated  by 
Washougal,  with  a  baby  born  at  Whitman's.  Mr.  Par- 
rish's  family,  too,  had  tarried,  with  a  wee  one  born  in 
the  sage  desert,  and  little  Rebekah  with  a  broken  thigh. 

"  But  what  an  impersonation  of  energy !  Dr.  Whitman 
is  building  a  new  sawmill  in  the  mountains,  eighteen 
miles  away,  and  often  rides  out  there  before. breakfast," 
the  late  comers  reported  when  they  reached  Gilliam's 
settlement  on  the  site  of  the  future  city  of  Dallas.  All 
that  Winter  of  '44  Dr.  Whitman's  own  family  lived 
on  the  necks  of  boiled  beef,  the  choicer  cuts  going  to 
emigrants. 

"  I  do  not  think  it  fair  that  the  emigrants  should  get 
all  the  best  meat  and  we  live  on  the  leavings !  "  sputtered 
Mrs.  Whitman. 

"  Narcissa,"  appealed  the  Doctor,  "  you  know  I  can 
stand  your  scolding  better  than  the  complaints  of  the 
emigrants.  They  do  not  realize  our  situation,  and  it  is 
as  well." 


A    SON    OF    HAM  151 

Without  property,  Dr.  Whitman  had  broken  the  way 
and  brought  his  bride  across  the  Rockies  eight  years 
before,  and  now,  with  the  meagre  salary  of  a  missionary 
and  their  own  undaunted  industry,  the  Whitman  station 
had  become  a  recruiting  point  for  all  the  wayworn 
passersby.  Nothing  but  the  most  skilful  management 
and  devoted  purpose  could  meet  the  tremendous  emer 
gency.  ''  To  fail  would  be  fatal ;  these  people  must  be 
helped,"  said  Dr.  Whitman.  Only  by  trading  farm  sup 
plies  for  lean  and  worn-out  stock  was  he  able  to  main 
tain  his  post.  To  meet  increasing  needs  a  house  of 
entertainment  was  in  process  of  erection. 

Out  of  Ford's  train  dropped  Alanson  Hinman.  Part 
of  the  time,  as  teacher,  he  tutored  the  children;  part  of 
the  time,  as  commissary,  dealt  out  provisions  to  the 
passing  throng. 

"If  they  have  money,"  said  Dr.  Whitman,  "  let  them 
pay;  if  none,  take  their  notes.  But  on  no  account  let 
any  suffer." 

"  But  I  believe  some  of  these  people  can  pay,"  protested 
Hinman. 

"  Nevertheless,  take  them  at  their  word,"  insisted  the 
Doctor.  "  We  know  not  their  circumstances,  and  in 
general  it  is  bad  enough."  In  fact,  many  a  note  proved 
worthless,  and  the  self-sacrificing  missionary  was  never 
reimbursed. 

"  Yes,  I  will  stop  at  your  shjngle  factory."  Uncle 
Billy  Shaw  and  Bush  came  driving  stock  past  Washougal 
in  the  blustery  March.  "  My  sons  are  famous  hunters ; 
they  can  supply  the  entire  camp." 

Out  in  the  foothills  the  boys  shot  deer,  "  jerked  "  the 
meat,  and  sent  in  wagon-loads.  Salmon  could  be  bought 
of  Indians  for  a  song;  ducks,  geese,  brants,  swans, 
hovered  in  flocks,  sweeping  up  from  the  gales  of  ocean. 

"  Come,  now,  let  us  try  again  the  Sound,"  urged  the 
Colonel,  when  summer  days  grew  fair.  With  a  thrill 
like  that  of  the  old  explorers,  Simmons,  Shaw,  George 
Waunch,  David  Crawford,  and  five  others,  reached  again 
the  forks  of  the  Cowlitz  and  passed  through  the  woods 
to  Puget  Sound.  Led  by  Peter  Bernier,  an  old  voyageur 


152  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

and  brother-in-law  of  Plomondon,  up  the  whole  length 
of  the  azure  sea  they  paddled,  past  Nisqually,  —  where 
Tolmie  looked  out,, —  past  Seattle's  Indian  village,  to 
the  garden  isle  of  Whidby  itself,  and  back  to  Budd's 
Inlet,  at  the  head. 

"  We  've  found  the  country !  "  Simmons  shouted  with 
delight.  "  Such  water !  such  timber !  Takes  three  looks 
to  see  the  top!  Nothing  like  it  in  the  world!  Uncle 
Billy,  let 's  bring  down  the  shingles  and  move  right 
over." 

"  Colonel,"  slowly  Uncle  Billy  jerked  out  the  words,  "  I 
-  think  —  I  —  shall  —  follow  —  Neil  —  into  —  the  val 
ley.  Sech  trees  stagger  an  old  man  like  me.  I  can't  cut 
'em."  But  Simmons  went,  and  Bush  and  McAllister, 
forming  the  first  American  settlement  on  the  exact  spot 
where  seventeen  years  before  Archibald  McDonald  had 
wanted  to  build,  —  at  the  Falls  of  Tumwater.  And  close 
by  grew  up  Olympia,  the  capital  of  a  future  State. 

Four  dollars  a  thousand  were  shingles,  and  four  dollars 
a  hundred  was  flour  at  Vancouver.  Boat-load  after  boat 
load  Uncle  Billy  and  his  boys  brought  dowrn  to  purchase 
a  thousand  pounds  of  flour. 

But  look !  —  paddling  back  in  the  smoky  October,  a 
long  line  of  flatboats,  bateaux,  arks,  rafts,  any  sort 
of  conveyance,  met  them  on  the  blue  Columbia.  The 
migration  of  '45  was  pouring  over  the  mountains. 

"  Here,  take  this !  "  Uncle  Billy  handed  over  fifty 
pounds  of  his  dear-bought  flour  to  the  distressed  new 
comers.  "  Any  more  on  the  way  ?  " 

"More?"  echoed  the  van  of  that  crusade.  "Boats 
cannot  hold  them.  Some  have  struck  into  the  foothills 
to  fight  a  way  around  or  over  Mount  Hood." 

"  Sally,  we  must  reach  the  settlements  without  delay," 
reported  Uncle  Billy  at  camp  that  night.  "  An  army  is 
coming,  —  all  the  good  claims  will  be  taken." 

Aunt  Sally  put  up  her  knitting,  and  that  very  day, 
with  pigs,  chickens,  and  cattle,  Uncle  Billy  and  his  boys 
pulled  out  of  Washougal.  Late  one  afternoon  the  Shaws 
struck  camp  on  the  Willamette.  Strolling  around  in  the 
woods,  Uncle  Billy  came  upon  a  log  cabin,  ten  feet  square, 


A    SON    OF    HAM  153 

no  floor,  no  door,  no  window,  a  lean-to  roof,  and  a  sign 
nailed  up: 

CAPTAIN    JOHN    H.    COUCH    CLAIMS    640 

ACRES    OF    LAND    ON    THIS    SPOT.       CALL 

ON   ME  AT  OREGON   CITY. 

A  mile  further  another  cabin  bore  the  legend: 

F.  W.  PETTYGROVE  CLAIMS  THIS  640 

ACRES.   CALL  ON  HIM  AT  HIS  STORE 

IN  OREGON  CITY. 

Such  was  the  beginning  of  Portland. 

"  Hello,  Uncle  Billy !  "  The  cheery  call  of  Joseph  Watt 
greeted  them  at  Oregon  City.  Joe,  the  skilled  carpenter, 
having  just  finished  McLoughlin's  mill,  was  starting  up 
the  valley  to  ply  his  craft  on  the  new  Willamette  Institute, 
where  the  Methodists  had  moved  over  to  Chemekete 
Prairie  and  founded  the  city  of  Salem. 

Aunt  Sally,  in  black  silk  cap,  big  kerchief,  whiter  than 
ever,  and  a  bran  new  apron  from  the  Hudson  Bay  Com 
pany,  greeted  with  the  boys  their  old  comrade  of  the 
plains. 

;<  Tom  ?  Yes,  sound  as  a  dollar !  "  proudly  smiled  Uncle 
Billy.  '  That  German  doctor  saved  my  son's  life  at  the 
Dalles.  Better  man  God  never  made.  Gee-oop  thar! 
gee,  Dick !  " 

And  jogging  along,  again  it  was,  "  Hello,  Uncle 
Billy!"  John  Minto,  just  finishing  harvesting  for  the 
Canadians,  rode  out  on  a  saddle-horse  to  join  his  friends, 
—  a  capitalist  now,  for  John  Minto  had  bought  the  old 
Methodist  mission. 

"For  what?" 

"  Wheat  to  be  raised  in  the  future." 


154  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 


A   ROAD   OVER   MOUNT   HOOD 

IN  high  exhilaration,  drilled  like  an  army,  five  thou 
sand  people  had  crossed  the  border  in  April  of  1845. 
With  the  boundless  blue  above,  and  the  boundless 
green  below,  the  translucent  atmosphere  breathed  youth, 
life,  hope,  freedom.  Still  the  Sioux  were  out  trying  to 
buy  white  girls,  still  dark  warriors  lurked  along  creeks 
and  streams  to  steal  white  women,  and  still  the  plains 
were  black  with  buffaloes,  ranging  knee-deep  in  flowering 
meads  through  which  passed  the  whites  with  enchanted 
lives. 

Crossing  the  Platte  by  fords,  by  wagon  beds  lashed 
together,  and  on  rafts,  darkening  the  streams  for  days, 
they  came  into  the  buffalo  country,  making  earth  tremble 
as  they  chased  the  herds  where  Nebraska  cities  were  yet 
to  be.  From  everywhere  they  came,  and  brought  every 
thing,  —  preachers  with  their  Bibles,  doctors  with  their 
medicine  chests,  lawyers  with  their  law-books,  school 
teachers,  millers,  millwrights,  carpenters  with  their  chests 
of  tools,  blacksmiths  with  anvils  and  bellows,  gunsmiths 
and  silversmiths,  tailors  with  their  geese,  shoemakers 
with  lasts,  saddlers,  dressmakers  and  milliners  with  their 
needles,  lumbermen  with  heavy  log  wagons,  and  farmers 
with  seeds  and  grain  and  stock.  Amazed  Indians  pointed 
at  whole  caravans  moving  like  villages  up  the  mountains 
at  Laramie. 

"  Lord !  Lord !  "  Captain  Grant  at  Fort  Hall  advised 
and  expostulated.  "  The  Indians  will  kill  you  all  before 
you  get  down  the  Columbia!  From  Des  Chutes  to  the 
Dalles  is  lined  with  thieves.  I  advise  you  to  turn  off 
to  California;  it  is  a  better  country  and  has  a  better 
trail." 


A    ROAD    OVER    MOUNT    HOOD         155 

The  line  wavered,  and  broke;  under  William  B.  Ide 
fully  one-third  of  the  five  thousand  turned  off,  to  raise 
in  another  year  the  Bear  Flag  of  Independent  California. 

Through  all  troubles,  needing  food  for  stock,  for  them 
selves,  and  fuel  for  camp-fires  along  the  dusty  Snake, 
through  thousands  of  naked  Indians  gathering  to  watch 
the  wonder,  the  rest  swept  on,  over  Bear  River,  Burnt 
River,  Malheur,  and  Powder,  John  Day  and  Des  Chutes, 
fording  and  floundering  with  their  big  ox-wagons  toward 
the  Columbia.  Into  the  tall  grass  of  the  Powder  River 
came  the  parched  mariners  of  the  sea  of  sage;  cool 
groves  invited  on  the  Umatilla.  "  Never  mind,  wait  a 
little  longer ;  we  '11  soon  reach  the  Dalles  and  then, 
then  —  "  No  emigrant  thought  he  was  in  Oregon  until 
he  had  reached  the  Dalles. 

Hundreds  blocked  the  Dalles.  "  The  end  of  the 
wagon  road  and  not  a  boat  in  sight!"  exclaimed  Cap 
tain  Samuel  K.  Barlow  to  his  wife,  Susannah  Lee,  grand 
daughter  of  one  of  the  Lees  of  Revolutionary  fame.  "  We 
can't  wait  here,  can  we,  Susannah?  S^y,  Mr.  Waller,  is 
there  no  other  road?" 

"  No ;  you  must  make  rafts  or  wait  for  the  Hudson 
Bay  boats." 

"  But  the  cattle?     We  have  thousands  in  this  train." 

"  You  had  better  drive  them  by  the  trail  down  the 
north  side  of  the  Columbia,  and  cross  at  Vancouver. 
There  is  also  a  narrow  cattle  trail  around  the  south  side 
of  Mount  Hood." 

"  Very  well.  Where  cattle  can  go  my  wagon  can 
follow." 

"  Impossible !  It  is  only  a  trail !  "  The  missionary 
made  a  gesture  of  detention. 

Snapping  his  whip  with  a  frown,  "  Impossible  to 
Samuel  K.  Barlow,  whose  father  followed  Daniel  Boone 
into  Kentucky?  Mr.  Waller,  God  never  made  a  moun 
tain  that  he  did  not  make  a  place  for  man  to  go 
over  or  under  it,  and  I  am  going  to  hunt  for  that 
place." 

"  Count  me  with  you,"  shouted  William  H.  Rector, 
axe  in  hand. 


156  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  And  me."  Joel  Palmer  and  John  M.  Bacon  bristled 
for  an  attack  on  the  mountain. 

Ahead  went  the  blazers  into  the  Cascades  primeval 
that  barred  eastern  Oregon  from  the  west  by  a  battle- 
line  of  peaks.  Where  Captain  Barlow  led,  thirteen 
wagons  and  forty  people  followed. 

"  I  know  a  shorter  route  than  the  one  by  the  Dalles," 
Stephen  Meek  assured  another  branch  of  the  train  at 
Fort  Boise.  "  I  have  trapped  on  the  headwaters  of 
the  John  Day,  and  often  met  Canadians  from  the  Wil 
lamette  who  came  over  the  pass  by  the  Santiam.  May 
I  pilot  you  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  promptly  declined  an  old  gentleman  named 
John  M.  Forrest.  "  Before  I  left  the  States  I  deter 
mined  that  I  would  not  be  led  off  into  any  new  routes 
claimed  to  have  been  discovered  by  any  adventurer.  I 
will  travel  where  others  have  gone." 

That  night  the  majority  decided,  "  We  will  try  the 
new  cut-off,  and  reach  the  valley  first."  But  at  daylight 
old  Mr.  Forrest  set  out  on  the  beaten  trail. 

"  Stay,  stay ! "  Strong  hands  tried  to  restrain 
him. 

"  No,  gentlemen,  I  go  by  a  known  road  if  I  have  to 
go  it  alone,"  persisted  Mr.  Forrest,  cracking  his  ox-whip. 
"  Gee-oop  thar !  gee,  Dick !  " 

"  Obstinate  old  mule !  sotter'n  a  settin'  hen !  We  '11 
get  there  first ;  let  'im  go ! "  But  twenty-five  more 
wavering  wagons  fell  into  the  wake  of  old  Mr.  Forrest. 

Into  the  new  shoot  south  of  the  Blue  Mountains  cheer 
fully  swung  out  the  other  sixty  wagons  and  several 
hundred  people,  paying  Stephen  Meek  three  hundred  dol 
lars,  half  in  advance,  for  the  short-cut  race  into  the 
Willamette. 

One,  two,  three  days  went  by,  heading  straight  toward 
a  desert.  "  But  he  is  an  old  hunter  and  must  know  the 
country."  Two  weeks  passed  when,  camped  one  night 
in  a  gulch  of  the  Blue  Mountains,  they  picked  up  bits  of 
shining  metal,  and  pounded  them  flat  on  their  wagon 
tires,  —  gold,  but  no  one  knew  it,  and  they  cast  the 
treasure  away.  Never  a  deer,  never  a  buffalo,  only  now 


A    ROAD    OVER    MOUNT    HOOD         157 

and  then  a  jack-rabbit,  in  all  that  lone,  unirrigated  wild. 
A  hundred  horsemen  scanned  the  hills  for  water;  pro 
visions  failed,  stock  died,  young  heifers  were  killed,  but 
their  skinny  flesh  was  sticky,  like  glue;  mountain  fever 
came,  with  funerals  at  every  camp ;  —  seventy  coffinless 
graves  were  dug  in  the  grassy,  rocky  desert. 

"  Turn  back!  "  cried  some. 

"  Turn  back  ?  We  were  made  to  go  ahead !  Men  like 
us  never  can  turn  back,"  answered  James  Terwilliger 
of  Chicago.  "  But  yonder,  there  to  the  north,  lie  the 
Blue  Mountains;  boys,  take  your  compass  and  find  the 
Columbia."  In  fear  of  his  life,  Stephen  Meek  had 
disappeared. 

North  and  north  for  nine  days  the  messengers  sped, 
while  the  weary  train  crept  sadly  after,  famished,  frenzied, 
perishing. 

But  the  boys  with  the  compass  were  coming,  galloping 
on  fresh  horses,  with  the  electrifying  word,  "  The  Co 
lumbia  in  view,  the  Columbia!  "  To  the  sick  and  dying 
the  boys  came;  camp  was  struck  where  they  met.  Food 
was  there,  and  help  from  the  faithful  Father  Waller  of 
the  mission  at  the  Dalles.  It  was  too  serious  a  time  even 
for  cheers;  the  dying  and  the  dead  were  too  near,  and 
straggling  too  far  away  were  the  end  wagons  of  the 
failing  train. 

"  Saved,  saved !  "  sobbed  the  mothers,  and  wept  as 
they  fed  their  hungry  little  children. 

Dan  Clark  was  at  the  Dalles  to  help  them  down,  and 
after  being  lost  six  weeks  in  the  uplands  of  Eastern 
Oregon,  one  of  the  best  equipped  companies  that  ever 
left  the  States  reached  Oregon  City  with  nothing  at  all. 
Not  even  could  some  of  them  wait  to  reach  Oregon  City 
when  once  they  sighted  the  wooded  Willamette. 

"  This  is  the  promised  land  for  me,"  decided  Terwil 
liger,  assisting  his  family  from  the  crowded  boats  to  the 
spot  twelve  miles  below  Oregon  City  where  Couch  and 
Pettygrove  had  set  up  their  cabin  claims. 

The  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  lit  up  the  dim  old 
forest;  the  solemn  firs  murmured  a  welcome.  With 
flint,  steel,  and  powder,  a  resinous  camp-fire  soon  roared 


158  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

under  the  forest  canopy,  and  the  soft  November  moon 
light  filtered  through  an  oak  opening  upon  the  camp 
slumbers  of  the  first  actual  home-builders  of  the  city  of 
Portland. 

At  daylight  the  whipsaw  was  out,  and  in  a  few  days  a 
cabin  was  ready;  toward  Christmas  James  Terwilliger 
and  others  hired  trusty  Indians  to  take  them  to  Oregon 
City  for  wheat,  seeds,  and  bolts  of  flannel.  Other 
stragglers  besides  themselves,  gaunt  and  haggard,  vic 
tims  of  the  Steve  Meek  cut-off,  were  lining  up  in  front 
of  the  new  Hudson  Bay  store  at  the  village  by  the  Falls. 
With  streaming  eyes  in  the  presence  of  destitution, 
Dr.  McLoughlin  looked  upon  the  shivering,  penniless 
strangers.  "  Take  what  you  need,  I  cannot  refuse  it." 

"  What !  give  those  vagabonds  goods  that  belong  to 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company?  "  roared  a  spy  from  Canada. 

"  God  is  my  witness,  I  cannot  refuse  aid  to  their 
suffering,"  answered  the  Doctor,  handing  out  warm  shirts 
and  shoes  for  little  children.  "  They  will  pay  when  they 
can." 

'  Then  I  report  you  to  Sir  George  Simpson,"  retorted 
the  spy,  turning  on  his  heel. 

That  night  a  document  was  despatched  that  ousted  Dr. 
McLoughlin  from  the  Hudson  Bay  Company. 

Other  excitements  were  stirring  the  young  city. 
"  There  's  a  train  trying  to  cut  its  way  over  the  south 
flank  of  Mount  Hood." 

Startled  eyes  looked  up  at  the  splendid  mountain.  No 
line  could  be  seen  reeling  across  the  snow,  but  help 
galloped  out  to  the  rescue. 

Slowly  the  wagons  had  followed  the  Barlow  blazers, 
cutting,  as  they  came,  up  hill,  down  canyon,  into  deep 
and  deeper  impenetrable  timber. 

"  No  Easterner  ever  saw  such  trees !  Why,  man, 
they  are  mammoths !  "  Rusty  axes  and  common  saws 
made  slight  impression  on  those  resinous  ranks  of 
Douglas  spruce  that  for  ages  immemorial  had  flanked 
the  sides  of  the  dead  volcano.  Snow  fell.  "  Got  to  send 
the  women  arid  children  out  of  this."  A  cabin  was  built 
in  the  Mount  Hood  forest,  wagons  were  left,  and 


A    ROAD    OVER    MOUNT    HOOD         159 

mounting"  on  oxen  with  little  bundles  of  clothes,  there 
was  a  struggle  for  the  trail.  But  grasses  were  hid,  food 
failed,  cattle  died  from  eating  the  poisonous  mountain 
laurel,  and  the  people  ate  the  dead  cattle. 

"  Billy,  can't  you  ride  light  and  get  word  to  the 
settlements?"  begged  the  Captain  of  his  son. 

And  while  Billy  Barlow  rode  ahead  the  people  toiled 
on,  on,  down  the  terrible  Laurel  Hill  to  Philip  Foster's, 
the  ranch  of  the  first  settler  on  the  sunset  side  of  Hood. 
As  beholding  a  miracle  Foster  looked  up,  to  see  women 
on  oxen,  with  little  children  strapped  on  before  and  be 
hind,  sliding  down  almost  perpendicular  precipices,  ford 
ing  mountain  streams,  swift  and  cold,  everything  but  life 
left  in  Mount  Hood.  Just  catching  breath  from  that 
steep  descent,  the  Oregon  City  rescuers  met  them.  Fresh 
mounts,  blankets,  and  provisions  brought  them  to  Oregon 
City  on  Christmas  Day. 

"  But  we  cut  the  road !  "  cried  the  Cromwellian  Cap 
tain.  "  As  soon  as  the  snows  are  gone  we  will  bring 
down  the  wagons."  And  true  to  his  word,  in  June, 
with  forty  axemen,  Samuel  K.  Barlow  went  back  to 
Mount  Hood  and  completed  the  first  wagon  route  across 
the  Cascade  Mountains. 

"  But  Emmet?  Where  is  James  Emmet?  "  All  along 
the  Columbia  inquiries  were  instituted  for  a  missing  train. 
Autumn,  Winter,  Spring  had  passed,  and  still  no  tidings. 
Frantic  letters  from  friends  availed  nothing. 

"  He  turned  north.  He  must  have  fallen  in  with  the 
Sioux,"  whispered  awed  voices  around  the  camp-fires. 

"  In  January  of  1845,  James  Emrnet,  a  Tennesseean, 
left  Iowa  City  for  Oregon  with  more  than  a  hundred 
people,"  said  those  who  knew.  But  that  company  never 
arrived,  never  was  heard  of  again. 


160  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 


VI 

DANIEL  BOONE'S  OLD   COMPASS 

"  T  SAY  that  man  is  alive,  full  grown,  and  is  listening 
to  what  I  say,  who  will  yet  see  Asiatic  commerce 

A  traversing  the  North  Pacific  Ocean,  entering  the 
Oregon  River,  climbing  the  western  slope  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  issuing  from  its  gorges,  and  spreading  its 
fertilizing  streams  over  our  wide  extended  Union.  The 
steamboat  and  the  steamcar  have  not  exhausted  all  their 
wonders.  They  have  not  yet  found  their  amplest  and 
most  appropriate  theatres,  —  the  tranquil  surface  of  the 
North  Pacific,  and  the  vast  inclined  plains  which  spread 
east  and  west  from  the  base  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
St.  Louis  is  yet  to  find  herself  as  near  Canton  as  she 
now  is  to  London,  with  a  better  and  safer  route  by  land 
and  sea  to  China  and  Japan  than  she  now  has  to  France 
and  Great  Britain." 

Walking  the  platform  in  one  of  his  panegyrics  of  the 
West,  with  locks  thrown  back,  and  shaking  his  fist  as  if 
ready  to  fight  the  man  that  dared  contradict  him,  Senator 
Thomas  H.  Benton  was  addressing  a  vast  assemblage 
in  the  City  of  St.  Louis  on  the  iQth  day  of  October, 
1844.  Arrogant  and  full  of  foibles,  yet  "  Old  Bullion," 
as  the  people  fondly  called  him,  had  the  gift  of  vision, 
and  as  his  voice  thundered  out  prophetic,  one  young  man 
in  that  audience  felt  the  Senator's  glaring  eyes  fixed 
upon  him,  —  him,  that  electric  finger  seemed  to  point  to 
him,  —  singling  him  out  of  the  mighty  concourse  as  one 
destined  to  deeds  in  that  mystical  West. 

Like  the  sensitive  plate  of  a  camera,  George  Law 
Curry  felt  impressed  upon  his  soul  a  consciousness  of 
things  to  be.  Born  in  the  Quaker  city  of  Philadelphia, 
and  yet  the  son  of  a  soldier  father,  peace  and  war  were 


DANIEL   BOONE'S    OLD    COMPASS       161 

in  his  veins.  Childhood  memories  pictured  trips  to  South 
America,  the  death  of  his  father,  and  a  journey  to  Boston, 
where  as  a  lad  of  eleven  he  had  become  the  ward  of  his 
uncle,  William  Curry. 

In  that  nursery  of  American  letters  the  boy  grew  up, 
enveloped  in  the  same  atmosphere  that  produced  a  Long 
fellow,  Lowell,  Bryant,  Holmes,  Hawthorne.  Appren 
ticed  while  yet  a  lad  to  the  jewellery  trade,  night  after 
night  he  stole  from  midnight  sleep  to  study  English 
literature.  At  eighteen,  young  Curry  was  president  of 
the  Mechanic  Apprentices'  Library  of  Boston,  and  when 
Longfellow  had  just  published  a  thin  little  volume  of 
"  Voices  of  the  Night,"  George  Law  Curry  was  con 
sidered  competent  to  be  chosen  poet  of  a  Boston  celebra 
tion  of  the  Fourth  of  July,  1841.  Three  years  later  he 
was  in  St.  Louis,  associated  with  the  father  of  Kate  Field 
in  the  publication  of  "  The  Reveille,"  and  listening  to 
Benton.  An  electric  current  was  in  the  air,  tending 
westward.  He  must  go. 

In  the  month  of  April,  1846,  the  Westport  suburb  of 
the  future  Kansas  City  was  the  busiest  point  on  the 
border,  for  here  it  was  that  Albert  Gallatin  Boone,  pro 
prietor  of  trading-posts  among  the  Kiowas,  Cheyennes, 
and  Arapahoes,  had  his  chief  stock  of  goods  for  out 
fitting  traders  for  the  mountains,  and  emigrants  for 
Oregon.  Here  the  son  of  Black  Hawk  came,  and  old 
Chief  Keokuk,  with  his  Sacs  a,nd  Foxes,  their  heads 
shaved  like  Japanese,  buying  on  credit,  until  annuity  day 
brought  them  silver  dollars  by  the  kegful.  Thousands 
at  a  payment  went  into  the  bank  chests  of  border  traders. 
Every  year  Albert  Gallatin  Boone  went  to  Philadelphia, 
bringing  back  hogsheads  of  beads,  cloth,  ribbons,  and 
vermilion,  —  treasures  that  easily  made  him  king  from 
the  Missouri  crossing  at  Westport  to  the  headwaters  of 
the  South  Platte,  where  Denver  was  yet  to  be.  To  him 
came  the  tribes  for  counsel,  and  with  him  they  were  one 
day  to  negotiate  the  sale  of  Colorado. 

But  now  the  grocery  was  thronged  with  departing 
emigrants,  after  everything,  from  a  pound  of  tea  to  a 
wagon  wheel.  Pressing  through  them,  Boone  came  out 

11 


1 62  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

to  the  side  of  his  brother,  named  for  an  old  Spanish 
friend  of  their  father. 

"  And  so  you  are  going,  Alphonso?" 

"  All  but  George  Luther,  and  you  know  best  where 
he  is." 

"  I  sent  him  with  Kit  Carson  on  a  trip  to  the  Arap- 
ahoes.  He  ought  to  be  back  in  six  weeks."  Albert 
gazed  toward  the  prairie  as  if  he  half  expected  the  boy 
now. 

'  Too  late,  but  he  can  follow,"  answered  the  Colonel, 
proud  of  his  son,  who  was  already  a  trusted  employe  of 
the  house  of  A.  G.  Boone,  the  greatest  on  the  border. 

"And  why  shouldn't  we  go,  uncle?"  spoke  up  pretty 
Chloe.  "  Cousin  Rachel  Kindred  went  two  years  ago, 
and  Cousin  Rhoda  T' Vault  last  year." 

All  Winter  the  Boone  wheels  had  been  a-humming, 
spinning,  weaving  linsey-woolsey  and  stout  brown  Ken 
tucky  jeans,  to  fit  out  the  brothers  and  sisters  for  the 
Oregon  journey.  And  back  in  those  wagons  stood 
chests  packed  with  new  linen  towels,  tablecloths,  and 
counterpanes,  the  handiwork  of  Chloe.  "  And  why 
shouldn't  we  go?"  again  laughingly  the  maid  inquired. 

"  Oh,  I  know,  I  know,  plenty  of  people  are  going, 
Chloe.  It  would  n't  be  Boone  nature  to  linger  with  new 
countries  in  sight.  And  sister  Panthea?" 

"  Aunt  Panthea  and  the  Governor  join  us  to-morrow." 

Governor  Lilburn  W.  Boggs,  one  of  Missouri's  most 
noted  executives,  had  been  compelled  to  call  out  the 
militia  in  the  stormy  days  of  Mormon  expulsion ;  he 
had  had  the  militia  out,  too,  over  the  disputed  boundary 
with  Iowa,  and  on  top  of  that  had  sent  two  regiments 
of  mounted  volunteers  to  the  Seminole  War  in  Florida. 
Altogether  his  might  have  been  called  a  military  admin 
istration,  from  whose  upheavals  now  thousands  were 
turning  westward.  Gilliam  lie  had  known,  and  Shaw 
of  1844,  and  the  Waldos  and  Applegates  of  1843.  And 
when  an  attempt  had  been  made  to  assassinate  him,  sup 
posedly  by  a  Mormon,  the  ex-Governor  resolved  to  quit 
the  scene  of  his  tempestuous  public  career  and  seek  the 
calmer  shades  of  Pacific  California. 


DANIEL    BOONE'S    OLD    COMPASS       163 

Panthea,  his  wife,  one  of  the  two  beautiful  daughters 
of  Jesse,  the  son  of  Daniel  Boone,  had  been  a  belle  in 
her  day,  with  hair  that  swept  her  feet,  and,  as  the  bride 
of  the  Governor  of  Missouri,  she  had  initiated  Chloe, 
her  niece,  into  many  a  quaint  old  custom  of  gubernatorial 
heritage  at  Jefferson  City.  Next  to  the  Capitol  stood 
the  Governor's  house,  the  handsomest  outside  of  St. 
Louis.  As  to  the  Boones,  Aunt  Panthea  could  tell  Chloe 
things  that  nobody  else  remembered,  dating  away  back 
to  the  very  beginning  of  American  expansion. 

:'  The  first  Chloe  was  your  grandmother  Van  Bibber," 
sweetly  she  would  say.  "  Van  Bibber  was  a  German  in 
the  old  country,  who  offended  his  father  by  wedding  the 
girl  of  his  choice.  Eor  that  the  old  burgomaster  dis 
inherited  him ;  the  young  couple '  fled  on  an  emigrant 
ship  to  Philadelphia,  drifted  down  to  Virginia,  and  had 
sons  and  daughters.  One  adventurous  son  —  your  Uncle 
Isaac  Van  Bibber  —  went  to  Natchez  in  a  very  early 
time,  when  it  was  a  Spanish  town,  and  returning  by  the 
Natchez  trace  up  through  the  wilderriess  of  Tennessee, 
was  set  upon  by  savages.  Robbed  of  everything  he  had, 
naked  and  starving,  he  reached  the  camp  of  Daniel  Boone 
on  his  first  trip  to  Kentucky.  Boone  took  him  in,  clothed 
him,  fed  him,  and  despatched  him  home  on  a  packhorse 
with  supplies,  as  if  he  had  been  his  own  son.  Never  did 
the  Van  Bibbers  forget  Daniel  Boone,  and  Daniel's  son 
Jesse  married  your  grandmother'  Chloe  Van  Bibber." 

"  Do  you  really  mean  old  Uncle  Isaac  out  at  Loutre 
Lake,  who  makes  powder-horns  for  the  boys?" 

"  Yes." 

Sitting  on  a  cricket  at  her  feet,  Chloe  often  had  listened 
to  Aunt  Panthea's  recitals,  while  the  militant  Governor 
was  conducting  his  Mormon  war.  And  now,  they  were 
going  West  together,  —  Aunt  Panthea  and  the  Governor, 
and  her  father,  Colonel  Alphonso  Boone,  and  the  numer 
ous  brothers  and  sisters  to  whom  Chloe  had  been  as  a 
mother  since  her  own  mother  died. 

"  Looks  like  a  Boone  exodus,"  laughed  Albert  Gallatin, 
fat  and  good-humored,  glancing  at  the  line-up  of  his 
brother's  children,  —  Chloe,  Mary,  Lucy,  Jesse,  James, 


1 64  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Morris,  and  little  nine-year-old  Phonse,  —  all  mounted 
with  their  cousins  on  the  best  Boone  horses. 

As  boys,  Albert  Gallatin,  himself,  and  this  same  brother 
Alphonso,  had  gone  out  with  Ashley,  paddling  and  poling 
up  the  Platte,  through  the  newly  discovered  South  Pass, 
and  helped  to  haul  cannon  to  Utah  Lake  on  the  first 
wheels  that  ever  crossed  the  Rockies.  More  than  once 
the  grandsons  of  Daniel  Boone  had  come  in  contact  with 
the  far-travelling  Hudson  Bay  traders  of  Oregon.  Their 
lines  had  met  all  along  the  border,  but  now,  sturdy  home- 
builders  like  the  Boones  were  sweeping  that  border  back 
and  back  into  farther  recesses  of  the  northern  continent. 

"  And  here  is  Daniel  Boone's  old  compass,  —  the  very 
one  Lord  Dunmore  gave  him  when  he  went  out  to  call 
in  the  hunters  from  the  Falls  of  the  Ohio  in  1774," 
answered  the  Colonel,  laying  hands  on  the  treasured  relic 
swung  shot-pouch  fashion  across  his  shoulders. 

"  And,  pray,  where  did  you  get  that  old  brass  con 
trivance,  big  as  a  dinner-plate?"  Albert  Gallatin  took 
hold  of  the  treasure.  "  It  looks  good  for  many  a  survey 
yet." 

"  Stopped  with  Aunt  Sally  last  night,  and  as  we  left 
this  morning,  the  good  old  soul  brought  out  this  compass. 
1  Take  it,  Colonel/  she  said.  '  Daniel  Boone  gave  it  to 
his  son  Daniel  M.  when  he  left  Kentucky,  in  1787. 
Mounted  on  his  pony,  with  a  wallet  of  corn  and  a  rifle 
on  his  back,  straight  west  Daniel  M.  rode  for  thirty 
days  without  meeting  a  single  human  being.  About  dusk 
one  evening  he  paused  on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi, 
opposite  St.  Louis,  and  hallooed  for  an  hour  before 
any  one  heard  him.  Then  an  old  Frenchman  came  over 
in  a  canoe.  After  that  he  carried  it  to  the  Osage  country, 
had  it  when  he  married  me,  and  when  Governor  Clark 
appointed  him  farmer  to  the  Kansas  Indians.  Since 
Daniel  M.  died/  —  she  broke  into  tears,  —  '  it  —  has 
-  hung  —  on  my  —  cabin  —  wall  —  unused/  Poor  old 
Aunt  Sally !  '  And  now,  Alphonso/  said  she,  '  I  want 
you  to  take  it  —  to  —  pilot  —  you  —  to  —  Oregon/  Of 
course  I  kissed  her  and  took  the  compass.  I  may 
need  it." 


DANIEL   BOONE'S    OLD    COMPASS      165 

"  Need  it!  of  course  you  '11  need  it,"  interjected  Albert 
Gallatin ;  "  if  you  lay  out  all  the  land  Senator  Benton 
has  promised,  to  say  nothing  of  one  hundred  and  sixty 
acres  apiece  for  each  of  your  children." 

The  next  morning  Governor  Boggs  came  in  with  the 
famous  Donner  party,  and  the  Browns. 

For  two  years  Orus  Brown  had  been  reading  the 
journals  of  Lewis  and  Clark,  and  talking  them  over 
with  his  mother,  —  a  wee  bit  of  a  woman,  sixty-six 
years  old,  not  weighing  more  than  a  hundred  pounds, 
and  walking  with  a  crutch,  from  a  fall  on  the  ice. 

"  Even  if  I  am  lame,  I  am  good  for  something  yet," 
the  old  lady  assured  her  son,  with  many  a  nod  of  her 
white  head,  "  and  I  want  to  go  with  my  children." 

Almost  ethereally  spiritual  looked  the  delicate  old  lady, 
with  her  thin  white  forehead,  blue  eyes,  and  abundant 
rippling  silver  around  a  face  forever  young.  Among 
all  her  acquaintances  Aunt  Tabitha  was  called  "  a  great 
manager,"  for,  as  the  widow  of  a  Massachusetts  clergy 
man,  she  had  gone  to  Missouri  in  an  early  day  and 
opened  a  school  that  proved  a  success  both  educationally 
and  financially.  Mistress  of  a  thousand  arts  known  only 
to  the  Yankee  schoolma'am,  —  dressmaker,  milliner, 
boarding-house  keeper,  —  for  a  quarter  of  a  century, 
Tabitha  Brown  had  battled  for  her  children,  until  all 
were  prosperously  situated  with  families  of  their  own. 
And  now  Uncle  John,  a  retired  sea  captain  and  brother 
of  her  dead  husband,  had  come  to  spend  with  her  his 
declining  years. 

"  I  do  believe  the  trip  would  help  my  rheumatiz," 
said  the  world-wandering  Captain  Brown,  now  past 
eighty. 

"  Certainly,  Uncle  John,"  the  spry  little  white-haired 
woman  encouraged  her  charge ;  "  we  can  take  you  right 
along.  I  shall  provide  myself  with  a  good  ox-wagon 
and  team,  and  a  supply  of  whatever  may  be  requisite 
for  our  comfort,  and  that  of  a  driver,  and  accompany 
Orus  and  his  wife  and  eight  children,  and  'Pheme  and 
her  family,  to  Oregon." 

A  well  outfitted  body  of  people  were  the  emigrants 


i66  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

of  '46,  —  some  with  carpeted  vehicles,  furnished  with 
rocking-chairs  and  other  conveniences  of  family  life, 
forerunners  of  the  railroad  car.  The  men  were  collect 
ing  their  long  trains  of  horses  and  cattle,  and  reinvoicing 
their  lists  of  supplies,  when  Chloe  Boone  came  galloping 
by  on  her  mettlesome  Kentucky  bluegrass  mare. 

"  And  may  I  ride  with  you?  " 

With  a  flick  of  his  whip  young  George  Law  Curry, 
ex-editor  of  "  The  St.  Louis  Reveille,"  was  at  her  side, 
his  long  wavy  hair  dancing  on  his  velvet  collar  as  he 
followed  the  maid  he  had  met  at  the  Governor's.  "  Yes, 
if  you  can  keep  up." 

Radiant  in  new  ribbons,  Chloe  flashed  a  smile  back  and 
darted  away,  bearing  his  heart  at  her  saddle  bow.  Be 
hind  followed  a  laughing  cavalcade  of  sisters  and  cousins. 

"  Young  folks  will  be  young  folks,  Tabitha,"  com 
mented  Uncle  John,  as  the  merry  racers  passed  him  on 
his  slow  jog-trot,  for  Uncle  John  insisted  on  crossing 
the  plains  on  horseback. 

"  Drat  those  giddy  heels,  startling  my  oxen  so!" 
growled  John  Quinn  Thornton,  whose  uncommonly 
heavy  outfit  was  enough,  without  a  load  at  all,  for  an 
ordinary  yoke  of  oxen.  John  Quinn  always  was  irascible. 
But  then,  he  was  sick,  and  he  and  his  amiable  wife, 
another  teacher  like  Aunt  Tabitha,  were  in  search  of 
health  in  the  fabled  far-off  land  of  perpetual  youth. 
"  Seek  'em,  Prince  Darco,"  he  called  to  his  greyhound. 

On  every  side  it  was  "  Colonel  Boone  "  and  "  Colonel 
Boone,"  for  this  grandson  of  Daniel  Boone  was  a  man 
of  energy,  one  who  never  said  "  Go,"  but  always  "  Come," 
when  a  difficult  task  must  be  performed.  And  few  in 
that  train  knew  the  border  as  did  Boone.  Somehow  his 
very  name  and  presence  bore  assurance  of  safety.  Six 
feet  in  his  boots,  blue-eyed,  brown-hair  sprinkled  with 
gray,  Alphonso  Boone  felt  as  few  did  the  responsibility 
of  his  office.  Every  morning  his  call  was  first  to  arouse 
the  sleeping  camp,  —  "  Turn  out !  turn  out !  "  —  a  trick 
he  had  caught  of  the  trappers  in  his  youth,  when  he 
travelled  with  his  brother  and  Ashley. 

Tall,  slim,  with  rippling  bronze  combed  over  her  ears 


"  'And  may  I  ride  with  you? 


DANIEL   BOONE'S    OLD    COMPASS       167 

in  a  cascade  of  satin  sheen,  Chloe  Boone  was  a  girl  to 
attract  attention  anywhere;  even  Indians  singled  her  out 
for  special  favors,  tearing  by  on  their  fleet  little  ponies, 
snatching  off  the  girls'  bonnets  and  riding  away  with 
ribbons  streaming  on  the  wind. 

But  not  all  Indians  were  gay.  The  great  wonder  of 
the  tribes  over  this  stream  of  whites  in  '46  was  giving 
way  to  indignation.  Vast  herds  ate  up  the  pasturage, 
and  no  rains  came  to  renew  the  cropped  verdure. 

"  You  had  better  move  on,"  said  Bissonette  at  Fort 
Laramie.  "  There  will  be  four  hundred  lodges  of  the 
Sioux  here  to-morrow,  coming  in  to  leave  their  families 
while  they  go  out  to  war  with  the  Snakes  and  Crows." 

Hastily  the  trains  reharnessed  and  moved  on;  but  at 
ten  o'clock  the  plains  grew  black  with  mounted  warriors, 
approaching  in  all  the  glittering  paraphernalia  of  battle, 
directly  across  the  line  of  emigrant  march.  Nearer, 
nearer,  —  which  should  have  the  road  ? 

"  Only  fear  of  the  United  States  Government  prevents 
them  from  attacking  us,"  said  John  Quinn  Thornton. 
But  Mrs.  Thornton,  hugging  Prince  Darco  with  one 
hand,  with  the  other  handed  out  a  bag  of  biscuit. 

Magic  act!    as  if  it  had  been  a  tribute,  or  a  tax,  the 

Indians  opened  ranks  and  gave  up  the  road  on  the  banks 

of  the  River  Platte.    But  down  the  long  line,  each  Indian 

riding  alongside  lifted  the  wagon  covers  and  looked  in, 

-  for  his  biscuit.     Hundreds  shook  hands. 

"Ah!"  admiringly  exclaimed  Mrs.  Thornton,  "few 
of  our  city  exquisites  can  present  a  hand  so  soft  and 
elegantly  formed  as  these  Indians." 

"  No  wonder ;  never  did  any  work,"  growled  her  hus 
band  ;  "  would  n't  soil  their  hands." 

"  But  notice,"  urged  Mrs.  Thornton,  "  some  of  them 
are  really  elegantly  dressed,  and  appear  more  independent 
and  high-spirited  than  any  we  have  ever  seen." 

"  Very  likely !  independent  warriors.  Did  you  know 
the  Pawnees  killed  a  man  in  the  St.  Joe  train?  His 
widow  is  coming  yonder." 

"  Alas,  poor  woman !  "  Mrs.  Thornton  looked  back 
at  the  slow  rolling  wagon  of  Mrs,  Trimble,  The  meek- 


1 68  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

ness  of  his  refined  and  delicate  wife  always  stirred  up 
John  Quinn. 

"  Just  a  beginning,"  he  added,  encouragingly.  "  One 
company  of  this  train  lost  a  hundred  cattle  in  a  single 
night  by  wolves  —  or  Indians." 

"  I  '11  not  lose  my  mare!  "  Aunt  Tabitha  Brown  care 
fully  tied  one  end  of  a  rope  around  her  favorite's  neck 
and  the  other  around  her  own  waist,  while  Uncle  John 
slept.  Pulling  down  the  curtains  and  lighting  a  candle 
in  her  little  travelling  parlor,  she  sat  down  in  her  easy- 
chair  to  knit.  "  Ah !  a  tug  at  Blossom's  rope !  "  She 
drew  it  in,  about  two  feet  of  it,  cut  short,  the  rest  gone 
with  mare  and  colt. 

"  Did  n't  I  say  so?  "  began  John  Quinn  Thornton  the 
next  morning.  "  Another  widow  of  this  train  plundered 
of  her  best  mare  last  night  by  your  gentlemanly  Sioux." 

Mrs.  Thornton  gasped.  "  Am  I  to  blame  for  the  Sioux, 
John?" 

April,  May,  June  melted  into  fervid  Summer,  and  still 
no  rain. 

"  We  must  lighten  up,  the  wheels  are  shrinking,  the 
teams  are  failing."  Unceremoniously  claw-footed  tables 
and  carved  oak  bureaus,  relics  of  an  ancestral  time,  were 
dumped  by  the  wayside  in  this  flight  to  a  newer  America. 

"  Fifty  dollars  for  a  pair  of  goggles !  "  cried  John 
Quinn  in  the  dusty  Black  Hills  beyond  Laramie.  But 
no  goggles  existed  west  of  St.  Joseph. 


VII 

AN   EDITOR  IN   LOVE 

FORT  HALL  was  afire  with  noise  and  news,  Ore- 
gonians  crying  their  various  roads,  and  Califor- 
nians    seeking  to   draw   away   the   trains   to  the 
Spanish  country. 

"  The  Columbia  is  not  safe ;   a  British  warship  there." 
"California  is  not  safe;   there  is  war  with  Mexico." 


AN    EDITOR    IN    LOVE  169 

"  Take  the  Mount  Hood  route,  good  wagon  trail  right 
into  the  Willamette  valley." 

"  The  southern  route  is  best.  A  new  entrance  just 
discovered  through  the  splendid  countries  of  the  Kla- 
math,  Rogue,  and  Umpqua.  All  needed  now  is  axemen 
to  go  ahead  and  cut  out  the  canyons." 

"  Ri-ght  this  way  for  Californi-ah !  We  are  intend 
ing  to  revolutionize  the  country  as  soon  as  Americans 
enough  have  arrived  to  fight  the  Spaniards." 

The  babel  was  terrific.  Captain  Grant  put  his  fingers 
in  his  ears,  —  "  This  beats  an  Indian  battle."  Nothing 
like  it  had  ever  been  heard  in  the  silent  sage  lands. 

"  Count  me  for  California,"  announced  the  militant  ex- 
Governor  Boggs.  "  I  was  destined  to  that  from  the  start." 

"  I  would  avoid  a  war."  The  peaceful  Colonel  Boone 
preferred  the  southern  route  into  Oregon,  where  there 
were  neither  Mexicans  nor  battleships. 

"  Captain  Applegate?  I  knew  you  in  Missouri."  Gov 
ernor  Boggs  shook  hard  the  hand  of  the  captain  who  had 
come  out  to  pilot  the  emigrants  in. 

"  Volunteers,  volunteers  to  cut  the  southern  road,"  the 
Captain  was  calling. 

"  Aye,  aye,  sir !  "  Thomas  Norris,  a  descendant  of 
Lord  Baltimore,  whose  star  of  the  West  lay  in  the  eyes 
of  Mary  Boone,  stepped  forward,  followed  by  others. 

With  the  axemen  Captain  Applegate  set  out  imme 
diately,  leaving  pilots  behind  to  guide.  At  Bear  River, 
west  of  Fort  Hall,  side  by  side  the  trains  drew  up,  and 
farewells  were  spoken  with  tears.  Out  of  the  sweets  of 
civilization  they  had  driven  together,  through  heats  and 
perils  and  fatigues,  cementing  the  friendships  of  a  life 
time.  And  now  the  ways  parted,  some  of  them  never  to 
meet  again. 

As  if  with  a  premonition  that  he  was  needed  in  the 
valley,  George  Law  Curry,  with  six  others,  had  already 
galloped  ahead  with  a  few  leading  teams  down  the  dusty 
Snake  toward  the  Columbia.  Directed  by  Captain  Bar 
low  at  the  Dalles,  up,  up  to  an  altitude  fearfully  appal 
ling,  steep  and  difficult,  they  had  entered  the  profound 
solitudes  of  the  Mount  Hood  forest  where  Barlow's 


1 70  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

blazers  had  been  cutting  all  Summer.  "  All  I  ask,"  Cap 
tain  Barlow  had  said,  "  is  that  my  son  Billy  may  have 
the  honor  of  driving  the  first  team  over  the  first  road 
over  the  Cascades."  Behind  the  boys  the  wagons  were 
coming,  coming,  with  Billy  Barlow  at  the  head. 

As  the  sun  was  setting  in  the  crimson  Pacific  on  a 
chilly  August  night,  Curry  and  his  friends  emerged  into 
a  glen  on  the  very  breast  of  snowy  Hood.  The  moun 
tain's  vast  and  sinewy  arms  interlocked  northward  and 
southward  with  neighboring  peaks.  Here  was  the  foun- 
tainhead  of  rivers,  where  only  the  dash  of  the  glacial 
torrent  on  its  plunge  to  the  distant  valley  broke  the 
silence.  Above  towered  the  summit,  its  crest  glittering 
in  the  departing  sunlight. 

"  The  crossing  of  the  Rockies,  the  Bear  River  range, 
and  the  Big  Brule  of  the  Blue  Mountains  are  nothing  to 
this !  "  Curry  gazed  beyond  the  timber  line  to  the  white 
above  them.  "  The  women  could  hardly  have  climbed 
it." 

"  But  women  have.  We  saw  a  cabin  back  there,  a 
shaker  bonnet,  and  a  baby's  shoe,"  answered  his  com 
panions,  returning  from  hobbling  their  winded  horses 
in  a  mountain  meadow. 

Slowly  day  died,  with  such  chilling  effect  that  gladly 
the  group  hovered  within  the  comfortable  vicinage  of  a 
camp-fire,  unstrapping  haversacks  of  bread  and  bacon. 
Awed  by  the  rapid  gathering  of  shadows,  very  quietly 
the  boys  brought  ferns  and  fir  boughs  on  which  to  stretch 
their  weary  limbs. 

"If  only  Chloe  were  here!"  From  his  coniferous 
pillow  Curry  looked  up  into  the  moonlit  firs  and  listened 
to  their  soughing,  —  "  All  is  well !  —  well !  —  w-e-11 !" 
The  excitement  of  being  at  so  great  an  altitude  kept  him 
awake,  but  by  ten  o'clock  all  was  unbroken  silence  under 
the  unwonted  splendor  of  the  August  stars.  Suddenly 
a  boom  of  distant  thunder  rumbled  in  the  valley,  the 
startled  wind  sounded  a  fierce  alarm,  the  lightning 
flashed  in  fantastic  chases  through  deep  walled  canyons, 
and  played  upon  inrolling  inky  clouds  like  a  magnified 
spectre  of  the  Brocken.  A  dash  of  hail  swept  over  the 


AN    EDITOR    IN    LOVE  171 

sleepers,  now  thoroughly  aroused ;  thick  flakes  of  snow 
fell  fast,  and  Curry  poked  up  the  fire,  while  the  rest 
gathered  tighter  their  blankets. 

"  Oh,  Chloe !  Chloe !  "  Unconsciously  he  spoke  aloud, 
—  never  before  had  the  Bostonian  realized  how  much  he 
thought  of  this  daughter  of  the  Boones.  But  with  dawn, 
the  sun  burst  in  opalescent  splendor,  kindling  the  utter 
most  heights,  while  far  below  their  aerial  camp  billowed 
an  ocean  of  clouds  like  breakers  on  a  beach. 

"  Look !  look !  "  Curry  pointed  to  the  south,  where 
Mount  Jefferson  glistened  in  the  sun,  and  northward, 
where  the  pinnacles  of  Adams,  St.  Helens,  and  Rainier 
swam  like  islands  in  the  rosy  deep.  Gazing,  the  awed 
group  seemed  standing  in  a  sea  of  fire  at  the  judgment 
of  the  world. 

Fascinated,  they  watched  the  fleecy  glow  dissolving 
down  Hood's  rugged  sides,  disclosing  spurs,  buttresses, 
and  deep  rocky  clefts  not  visible  the  night  before.  Tar 
rying  briefly  at  a  hurried  breakfast,  and  carving  their 
names  on  rocks  and  trees,  names  that  linger  to  this  day, 
the  boys  started  down  the  never-to-be-forgotten  Laurel 
Hill,  where  great  trees  must  be  chained  to  Billy  Barlow's 
wheels  to  keep  them  from  sliding  too  swiftly  down  that 
steep  incline. 

Descending,  ever  descending,  amid  aisles  of  Douglas 
spruce,  brushing  through  barriers  of  Alaska  cedar,  Ore 
gon  manzanita,  and  the  white  bloom  of  the  mountain 
syringa,  sliding,  falling,  they  reached  the  settlements. 
The  sharp,  keen  air  was  fragrant  with  ozone;  the  world, 
Pacific. 

"  Ah,  editor  of  '  The  St.  Louis  Reveille  '  ?  "  hummed 
William  G.  T'Vault,  examining  the  personal  card  of 
George  Law  Curry.  "  Just  the  gentleman  we  have  been 
looking  for."  Immediately  the  dust-stained  and  travel- 
worn  Bostonian  was  installed  in  charge  of  the  "  Oregon 
City  Spectator,"  the  first  newspaper  published  on  the 
Pacific  coast. 

"  Any  notice  as  to  when  Uncle  Sam  will  extend  his 
jurisdiction  out  here?" 

"The  matter  was -up  before  Congress  when  we  left," 


172  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

the  new  editor  was  glad  to  say.  Straightway  a  salute 
of  rifles  rang  from  the  bluff,  to  the  immeasurable  dis 
turbance  of  Dr.  McLoughlin  lest  war  might  have  been 
declared.  Soon  a  flag  fluttered  from  the  "  Spectator  " 
office.  Dr.  McLoughlin  eyed  it  with  mingled  hope  and 
apprehension,  —  his  interests  lay  on  both  sides,  British 
and  American.  But  with  kindness  of  heart,  for  which 
he  was  ever  noted,  the  ancient  fur  trader  turned  to  a 
lad  offering  an  elkskin  and  a  pack  of  beaver  for  flour  at 
the  mill. 

'You  are  a  Yankee?" 

"Just  in  from  the  Barlow  road,"  nodded  a  shock- 
headed  boy.  "  Been  hunting  up  there." 

"Well,  sir,"  bristled  the  Doctor,  who  had  long  had 
a  monopoly  on  beaver,  "  when  I  came  here  from  Canada, 
overland,  and  a  thousand  miles  down  the  Columbia  by 
canoe,  I  thought  here  was  a  place  where  Yankees  could 
never  come.  But  here  they  are.  I  think  if  it  were  nec 
essary  to  build  a  road  right  over  the  top  of  Mount  Hood 
they  would  build  it.  Why,  I  never  saw  such  people!" 
The  boy  took  his  flour  and,  smiling,  passed  on. 

"  But  Chloe  —  where  is  Chloe  ?  "  uneasily  the  editor 
was  wondering  as  he  took  his  flag  in  from  the  evening 
mists  of  Willamette.  Ever  her  face  rose  to  him  out  of 
the  foamy  falls,  and  ever  seemed  beckoning  when  he 
began  to  serve  as  secretary  of  enthusiastic  night  mass 
meetings  petitioning  Congress  for  an  immediate  railroad 
to  the  Oregon  country. 


VIII 

CHLOE   BOONE 

"T^VRAT  that  team!    there  go  my  geological  speci- 

1   mens !  "     Daylight's  dissolving  vapors  disclosed 

-1— ^   John   Quinn   Thornton's  overturned   wagon   in 

the  Southern  mountains.     "  Ah,  my  precious  carnelians 

and  variegated  marble,  and  the  granite  with  magnetic  iron 


CHLOE    BOONE  173 

ore ! "    he    cried,    rushing    madly    after    the    retreating 
treasures. 

"  Them  rocks  are  no  use  to  you  or  any  one  else," 
shouted  Colonel  Boone.  "  Let  'em  go,  lighten  up,  Mr. 
Thornton,  and  you  '11  git  along  better.  Always  writin' 
or  prowlin'  after  grass,  weeds,  and  sich  truck!  "  muttered 
the  practical  Colonel. 

Slim,  neat,  quiet,  reserved,  always  busy  with  her 
numerous  family,  "  Chloe  is  the  apple  of  her  father's 
eye,"  said  the  emigrants.  "  Ask  your  sister  Chloe,  my 
child,"  was  Colonel  Boone's  invariable  advice  to  his  chil 
dren.  But  this  morning  the  delicate  blue  veins  shone 
darker  through  her  thin  skin;  the  eyes  were  heavy  for 
want  of  sleep.  Had  she  dreamed  of  her  lover  that  night 
on  Mount  Hood? 

Old  Chief  John  was  watching  when  the  emigrants 
came  into  his  valley;  he  remembered  the  promise  of  the 
Applegates,  —  "  Travellers  will  pass,  and  not  tarry," 
but  he  lit  his  signal  fires  on  all  the  hills,  darting  and 
crackling  like  volcanic  eruptions  until  the~entire  ridge  was 
ablaze  with  crimson  banners.  Well  might  the  newcomers 
fancy  that  whole  armies  lay  encamped  behind  those  fiery 
battlements  of  southern  Oregon. 

Chief  John  knew  something  of  white  men,  —  he  had 
seen  them  in  the  Willamette,  —  and  as  King  of  the  Sugar 
Pine  Groves,  he  ordered  his  warriors  to  string  their  bows 
when  some  lingered,  hunting  for  fords.  From  its  source 
in  the  crater  lake  of  an  extinct  volcano,  the  turbulent 
Rogue  leaped  down,  a  continuous  cataract.  "  Go,  stop 
not !  "  fiercely  Chief  John  gestured  when  a  man  with  a 
flock  of  sheep  set  up  his  canvas  corral.  Under  com 
pulsion  the  sheep  were  driven  in,  one  hundred  and  fifty, 
and  every  one  went  down  in  the  mad  and  merciless 
River  Rogue. 

Late  Autumn  found  the  Boones  in  the  Umpqua  Moun 
tains.  November  rains  were  flooding  the  canyon,  so 
deep  and  dark  that  stars  were  visible  at  midday. 

"  I  will  drive  through,"  insisted  John  Quinn  Thornton. 
His  wagon  turned  over,  and  his  load  floated  away. 

"  I  must  drive  through."     Dr.  Wood  had  brought  a 


174  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

stand  of  bees.     His  hives  upset,  killed  the  queen,  and  all 
the  bees  died. 

Stuck  in  the  throat  of  that  awful  labyrinth,  one  after 
another  the  vehicles  were  abandoned.  Men  began  to  pack 
their  goods  on  horses  and  oxen,  carrying  their  wives  and 
children  on  their  backs,  wading  armpit  deep  in  the  icy 
Umpqua.  Snatching  from  the  debris  his  rifle,  revolver, 
large  knife,  some  ammunition,  and  a  morsel  of  food 
for  his  shot-pouch,  John  Quinn  Thornton  and  his  wife 
struggled  forward,  passing  abandoned  wagons,  cattle  that 
had  perished,  and  the  wreckage  of  beds,  bedding,  furni 
ture,  and  household  utensils  discarded  in  wild  confusion. 

Stepping  from  stone  to  stone  with  the  support  of  sticks, 
Prince  Darco  swimming  and  clinging  with  his  feet^  to 
the  sides  of  rocks  behind  them,  they  were  endeavoring 
to  continue  the  apparently  hopeless  struggle  for  escape. 
Suddenly  slipping  into  cold  snow  water  above  her  waist, 
Mrs.  Thornton  fainted. 

"  If  she  should  die  I  could  never  take  her  out ! " 
moaned  John  Quinn,  chafing  her  temples,  shaking  and 
calling  her  name  aloud.  Pallid  were  her  lips,  and  thin 
and  compressed;  her  eyes  turned  up  in  their  sockets, 
and  her  head  fell  back  with  the  fixedness  of  death. 

"Nancy,  darling,  for  God's  sake,  Nancy!" 

"  Do  not  be  alarmed ;  I  am  worth  two  dead  women 
yet,"  unexpectedly  answered  the  courageous  woman, 
opening  her  eyes  and  endeavoring  to  rise. 

Beyond  that  gorge,  the  Reverend  Joseph  Cornwall  of 
Arkansas  had  set  up  his  tent.  His  wagon  had  gone 
through,  but  the  chill  had  killed  his  oxen;  and  now, 
thronging  for  shelter,  scores  of  fugitives  were  grateful 
for  the  mere  blaze  of  his  camp-fire.  Even  through  their 
woes  some  smiled  at  the  recollection,  "  It  must  be  Sun 
day."  Back  on  the  plains,  more  than  once,  Colonel  Boone 
had  said,  "  If  it  was  n't  for  Mr.  Cornwall  we  should  n't 
know  when  Sunday  came."  For  always  there  was  rest, 
and  a  Bible  service  at  the  Cornwall  tent.  But  this  was 
no  Sunday.  In  pots  and  pans,  teacups  and  tin  dippers, 
Joseph  Cornwall  and  his  daughter  Lizzie  were  serving 
hot  soup  to  the  famishing. 


CHLOE    BOONE  175 

"  It  is  useless  to  attempt  to  get  the  teams  through," 
said  Colonel  Boone,  struggling  still  in  the  canyon.  "  We 
must  camp  until  something  can  be  carried  out."  Leav 
ing  Phonse,  Mary,  and  thirteen-year-old  Morris  to  guard, 
the  rest  set  out.  Walking  ahead  of  his  daughters  with 
his  rifle  over  his  shoulder,  Colonel  Boone  picked  out  the 
way,  holding  their  bridles  in  dangerous  spots  to  help 
them  through.  Eighteen  times  Chloe  counted  the  cross 
ings  as  they  forded  from  bank  to  bank  down  the  fearful 
twelve  miles  of  Umpqua  canyon,  and  twice  was  she  swept 
from  the  saddle  and  nearly  lost  when  her  little  mare 
slipped  on  boulders  in  the  swift  water. 

'This  is  too  dangerous,  girls.  Dismount;  it  is  safer 
to  jump  from  log  to  log  and  from  tussock  to  tussock." 
But  wherever  the  Colonel  led  Chloe's  little  mare,  her 
mistress  followed. 

'  That  hot  bean  soup  saved  my  life,"  sobbed  Chloe, 
recovering  from  cold  and  exposure,  at  the  Cornwall 
tent. 

"  Listen,  Mary,  to  the  wolves,"  shuddered  little  Phonse 
back  in  the  canyon.  Now  near,  now  far,  came  the  pro 
longed  howl,  difficult  to  locate,  as  if  the  walls  were 
patrolled  by  ever  shifting  sentinels.  "  Don't  you  see 
their  eyes,  Morris,  shining  in  rows  in  the  dark  up 
there?" 

"  Hush,  Phonse,  the  fire  will  keep  them  back."  Re 
assuringly  Morris  piled  on  pitchwood  and  stirred  up  the 
flames. 

"•We  can  do  no  more.  Leave  the  rest,"  said  the 
Colonel,  returning  on  the  eighteenth  day.  Packing  some 
indispensables  on  an  ox,  wading  the  creek  lengthwise, 
and  walking  on  dead  cattle  with  the  hand  of  little  Phonse 
in  his.  Colonel  Boone  came  with  the  last  of  his  children 
upon  the  left  bank  of  the  Umpqua,  where  now  stands 
the  village  of  Canyonville.  Like  fugitives  from  battle 
they  emerged  into  a  prairie  scattered  with  disastrous 
rout,  where  Chloe  had  a  camp-fire  and  steaming  kettles. 

"  Hark!  is  that  John  Quinn  quarrelling  with  his  wife 
again  ?  "  Irritated  through  long  invalidism,  John  Quinn 
made  the  worst  of  his  situation.  There  were  tears  on 


176  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Mrs.  Thornton's  cheeks.  "  Meanest  man  on  the  plains," 
agreed  the  sympathetic  girls.  But  others  were  weeping 
besides  Mrs.  Thornton. 

Colonel  Boone  looked  on  the  hungry  throng.  Mothers 
were  hushing  wailing  babes ;  fathers  were  in  despair. 

"  Is  that  all  the  meat,  James?  "  The  boy  was  bringing 
in  the  last  remnant  of  the  last  ox  for  supper.  The  rest 
had  been  distributed. 

"  Yes,  father." 

"  Well,  Chloe,  put  it  all  on  to  cook  and  invite  in  the 
neighbors.  We  '11  eat  what  there  is,  and  if  we  starve, 
we  '11  all  starve  together." 

"  But,  father,"  Chloe  hesitated,  "  would  you  give  away 
the  last  mouthful,  and  let  your  children  suffer?" 

"  Never  you  fear,  Chloe,  never  you  fear.  Relief  will 
come.  I  never  knew  it  to  fail." 

"  Then  I  wish  we  had  the  Newtons  here,  father,"  said 
Chloe,  preparing  to  serve  her  guests. 

All  the  two  thousand  miles  from  Missouri  Mr.  New 
ton  had  walked  behind  the  Boones,  leading  a  pony  upon 
which  rode  his  wife  and  baby.  Fearing  to  cross  the 
swollen  Umpqua,  the  Newtons  had  decided  to  wait 
until  the  waters  abated.  But  alone  with  the  wolves  — 
"  Mother,  we  must  follow  the  Boones,"  he  said.  Ford 
ing  and  following  to  within  sight  of  their  camp-fire 
he  rested,  while  the  Boones  and  their  neighbors  were 
devouring  that  last  pot  of  meat. 

"  The  boys,  the  boys !  "  There  was  joy  in  the  Boone 
camp  that  night,  -  -  Tom  Norris  had  come,  and  others 
who  had  helped  to  hew  out  the  canyons. 

"  Leave  everything,  Colonel,"  adjured  Tom,  with  an 
eye  on  the  pallid  Mary.  "  All  we  can  do  is  to  get  in. 
Here  are  horses  for  the  girls." 

"  All  right,  Tom,  go  ahead,  while  I  stay  with  these 
people  behind " ;  and  the  great-hearted  grandson  of 
Daniel  Boone  turned  back  to  help  family  after  family 
out  of  the  disastrous  Umpqua  Mountains. 

With  a  little  roll  of  clothing  Chloe  Boone  was  gallop 
ing  again  at  the  head  of  her  train,  and  toward  that  lover 
whose  prophetic  heart  had  stirred  the  whole  valley. 


CHLOE   BOONE  177 

Quickly  the  word  had  come,  "  A  scattered  train  strug 
gling  in  the  Southern  mountains."  Detained  beyond  all 
reason  by  the  long  journey,  by  Indian  skirmishes,  and 
by  efforts  to  recuperate  the  failing  stock,  Winter  had 
dropped  down  with  surging  floods  and  torrential  water 
courses.  Streams  that  in  Summer  were  mere  trickling 
rivulets  or  dried  in  their,  beds  now  raged  like  mimic 
Niagaras. 

Amazed  at  such  unprecedented  disaster,  the  settlements 
pushed  forth  rescuers  packed  with  provisions,  and  as  the 
routed  and  flying  ones  arrived  every  cabin  was  open, 
every  fireside  aglow  with  sympathy.  Orus  Brown  had 
driven  in  by  the  Dalles.  He,  too,  heard  of  the  trouble 
in  the  South,  and  set  out  to  rescue  his  heroic  little  mother. 
Not  yet  had  Winter  swollen  that  trap  in  the  mountains 
to  the  torrent  it  later  became,  but  still,  abandoning  her 
wagon  and  everything  but  the  horse  she  was  on,  the 
white-haired  grandmother,  followed  by  Uncle  John,  buf 
feted  for  three  days  with  water  up  to  their  horses'  sides, 
issuing  into  the  beautiful  vale  of  the  Umpqua,  inhabited 
only  by  beasts  and  wild  Indians. 

"  Fly,  mother,  from  starvation,"  pleaded  her  daughter 
Pheme.  "  Hurry  ahead  with  Uncle  John  and  try  to 
catch  the  forward  wagons." 

The  last  bit  of  bacon  was  divided,  three  slices  and  a 
cup  of  tea  fell  to  Aunt  Tabitha.  With  horses  saddled 
they  set  out  into  the  wild  and  virgin  world  whither  few 
had  penetrated  before  them. 

"  I  am  ill,"  Captain  Brown  complained  on  the  after 
noon  of  the  second  day.  Slowly  the  aged  rider  crept  on ; 
then,  delirious,  fell  from  his  horse. 

Aunt  Tabitha  bent  over  until  he  opened  his  eyes. 
"  Uncle  John,  I  am  afraid  to  jump  down  from  my  horse ; 
it  is  one  that  no  woman  ever  rode  before,  and  I  know  I 
could  never  get  on  again.  Lift  your  cane." 

The  cane  fell  back  from  a  nerveless  hand. 

"•Oh,  Uncle  John,  if  we  can  only  reach  yonder  hollow 
I  am  sure  I  can  assist  you  to  your  saddle." 

Weakly,  feebly  the  spot  was  reached,  and,  after  re 
peated  trials,  the  Captain  was  up.  "  Hold  tight,  Uncle ; 

12 


178  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

I  will  lead  by  the  bridle."    In  the  face  of  the  wind-driven 
rain  Aunt  Tabitha  was  crossing  the  last  divide. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do?  " 

Aunt  Tabitha  had  stopped  and  seemed  to  be  studying 
the  landscape.  Uneasily  Uncle  John  watched  her.  Not 
a  human  sign  was  in  sight,  not  a  vestige  that  man  had 
ever  trodden  that  lone  wilderness  save  a  trace  cut  by 
wheels.  The  shades  of  night  were  gathering,  Uncle  John 
was  shivering.  "  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Tabitha?  " 

"  Camp  for  the  night,"  answered  the  spry  little  grand 
mother,  alighting  with  her  crutch,  flinging  off  saddle  and 
saddle-pack,  and  tying  her  horse  fast  to  a  tree  with  a  lasso 
rope. 

Uncle  John  groaned  and  slipped  to  the  ground  without 
a  word. 

Quickly  Aunt  Tabitha  gathered  the  wagon  sheet  which 
she  had  under  her  packsaddle,  flung  it  over  a  project 
ing  limb  of  the  tree,  and  made  a  tent.  Stripping  the 
Captain's  horse  and  tying  him,  with  saddle,  blankets,  and 
bridles  under  the  tent,  the  bewildered  old  sailor  was 
assisted  in  with  a  show  of  gayety :  "  Come,  Uncle,  let  me 
introduce  you  to  our  new  lodging." 

With  a  smile  the  exhausted  octogenarian  lapsed  into 
insensibility.  Covering  him  with  blankets,  Aunt  Tabitha 
seated  herself  on  the  ground  behind  him.  "  I  shall  be 
alone  with  the  dead,"  she  murmured,  doubtful  if  dawn 
would  find  her  companion  alive.  Without  food,  without 
fire,  cold  and  shivering,  wolves  fighting  and  howling 
around  her,  Aunt  Tabitha  kept  her  vigil.  Dark  clouds 
hid  the  stars,  but  a  deep  prayer  welled  in  her  heart: 
"  Thou,  God,  Whom  I  have  ever  known,  art  watching  me 
still.  To  Thee  I  commit  all  and  feel  no  fear." 

Heavily  the  old  man  slumbered ;  now  and  then  in  the 
dark  her  gentle  hand  drew  up  the  blankets.  Light  dawned 
at  last.  The  Captain  awoke  refreshed;  he  could  stand 
upon  his  feet.  Pulling  down  her  tent,  and  saddling  her 
horses,  Aunt  Tabitha  stood  a  moment  as  if  in  expectation. 

"  Of  all  things  in  this  world,  Aunt  Tabitha,  you  here 
alone?"  the  cheerful  voice  of  an  emigrant  startled  her, 
one  from  the  advance  wagons  with  which  she  had  entered 


THE    BOUNDARY    SETTLED  179 

the  canyon  a  week  ago.  "  And  here  are  fresh  tracks  of 
Indians  within  eight  feet  of  your  night  encampment !  " 

Tabitha  looked,  —  -  "  I  did  not  know  Indians  had  been 
here.  Perhaps  they  would  not  kill  a  woman/'  undreaming 
that  precisely  on  that  spot  Mr.  Newton  would  be  killed 
in  sight  of  the  camp-fire  of  the  Boones. 

And  Aunt  Tabitha?  Her  name  shines  among  the 
great  women  of  America.  Gathering  stray  little  orphans, 
children  whose  parents  had  been  killed  by  Indians,  children 
whose  fathers  and  mothers  soon  after  rushed  away  to  the 
gold  mines  of  California,  she  opened  an  orphanage  in  a 
little  log  structure  on  Tualitan  Plains.  The  school  grew, 
saintly  men  gave  half  the  value  of  their  property  for  its 
endowment,  and  out  of  the  little  log  orphanage  of  Aunt 
Tabitha  Brown  grew  Pacific  University. 

On  that  same  Christmas  Day  that  Aunt  Tabitha  first 
set  foot  in  a  civilized  home  in  Oregon,  Chloe  Boone  and 
her  sisters  reached  the  lone  outpost  of  the  valley,  the  log 
cabin  of  Joseph  Avery,  the  founder  of  Corvallis.  Press 
ing  on,  a  few  weeks  later  Chloe  opened  the  first  school  ever 
taught  by  a  woman  outside  of  the  missions  in  Oregon. 
Wild  Indians  looked  in  at  the  windows,  herds  of  deer 
came  trooping  by,  and  George  Law  Curry  came  to  woo  the 
great-granddaughter  of  Daniel  Boone. 


IX 

THE   BOUNDARY   SETTLED 

"TT  THAT  shall  I  do?  "     Tolmie  begged  of  James 

V^\/     Douglas  when  shingles  came  piling  up  around 

Nisqually.    "  We  shall  be  buried  in  shingles." 

Douglas,  pondering  the  problem,   seized  his  pen  and 

wrote : 

"  We  must  help  these  poor  people.    We  cannot  see  them 
suffer  for  the  necessaries  of  life.     Buy  the  shingles;    do 


i8o  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

not  reduce  the  price.  In  the  long  run  it  will  turn  out  all 
right.  A  market  will  be  found,  and  the  Company  will 
suffer  no  loss." 

All  that  eventful  Summer  of  '46,  while  the  Americans 
were  struggling  through  canyons  and  over  almost  im 
passable  mountains  into  Oregon,  her  Majesty's  ship 
"  Modeste  "  lay  moored  like  a  watch-dog  at  the  gates 
of  Vancouver.  At  Nisqually  on  the  Sound  the  British 
frigates-of-war,  "  Fisgard  "  and  "  Comorant,"  held  pos 
session  to  guard  the  rights  of  Britain,  pending  the 
settlement  of  the  boundary  problem.  On  a  level  green 
contiguous  to  Fort  Nisqually  three  hundred  marines  were 
camped,  taking  turns  with  their  comrades  on  shipboard 
at  artillery  practice,  firing  into  the  lonely  shore  under 
the  dark  green  firs  of  Puget  Sound.  Boom !  boom !  all 
day  the  bronze  cannon  thundered,  and  on  shore  the 
lively  notes  of  the  flute  and  the  bugle  kept  step  with 
daily  evolutions  of  her  Majesty's  redcoats. 

While  Barlow  and  Applegate  with  their  axemen  were 
blazing  roads  into  the  Willamette  Valley,  the  Hudson 
Bay  forts  were  gay  with  private  theatricals,  and  music 
and  dancing.  The  bands  from  the  warships  played,  and 
the  old  fort  plains  were  staked  into  race-courses.  From 
the  most  distant  tribes  Indians  came  with  their  fast  horses 
to  run  against  the  "  shipmen,"  while  at  both  Nisqually 
and  Vancouver  the  naval  officers  attended,  dressed  in  fancy 
riding  costumes  to  the  great  delight  of  the  Indians. 

"  Kinchotch  great  man !  "  exulted  the  Indians,  hiring 
out  horses  to  the  sailors  and  pocketing  gold  and  silver. 
"  Kinchotch  - 

"  King  George !  why,  he  has  long  been  dead !  "  growled 
the  deep-toned  commander  of  a  warship. 

"  Of  course,"  explained  the  conciliatory  Douglas  of 
Vancouver,  "  but  these  Indians  never  heard  of  Victoria. 
All  Englishmen  are  to  them  '  King  George  men  ' ;  and 
all  Americans  are  '  Bostons.'  ' 

Kamiakin,  chief  of  the  fourteen  allied  tribes  of  the 
Yakima  nation,  came  to  Vancouver.  Scarcely  saw  he 
the  races ;  already  his  eagle  eye  had  counted  three  hundred 
wagons  coming  down  from  the  Dalles.  While  others 


THE    BOUNDARY    SETTLED  181 

bet  and  shouted,  Kamiakin  watched  the  slow  rafts  drift 
ing  down  the  Columbia  and  turning  up  the  Willamette. 
Summoning  his  father-in-law,  the  chief  shook  his  head: 
"  Urn,  too  many  Bostons,  Teias,  too  many  Bostons. 
Kinchotch  man  much  better." 

November  came,  and  the  rains  drove  home  the  racers. 
For  this  season  an  unusually  large  number  of  Hudson 
Bay  grandees  were  gathered  at  Vancouver,  feverish  for 
news.  Peter  Skeen  Ogden  was  back  from  England, 
whither  he  had  been  on  the  boundary  business;  Work 
was  down  from  Fort  Simpson,  Tolmie  from  Nisqually, 
Angus  McDonald  from  Colville;  in  fact,  every  chief 
that  could  leave  his  post  had  gathered  at  headquarters 
on  the  Columbia.  The  "  Modeste "  was  still  in  the 
river. 

"  Truly,  more  than  the  country  is  worth.  Still,  it  is 
well  to  bring  Brother  Jonathan  to  his  senses,"  Chief 
Factor  Work  admitted,  when  he  heard  of  Captain  Gordon 
and  his  fifty-gun  frigate  in  Fuca's  straits  all  Summer. 
"  But  not  so  many  Yankees  this  year,-"  reported  Dugald 
McTavish,  the  clerk  whose  duty  it  was  supposed  to  be  to 
keep  count. 

"  I  met  a  party  of  them  on  their  way  to  Puget  Sound," 
Mr.  Work  went  on,  "  struggling  along  through  the  mud 
on  foot  with  little  bags  of  flour  on  their  shoulders,  very 
badly  clothed,  and  altogether  wretched  in  appearance,  but 
apparently  in  high  spirits."  k 

"  Mr.  Work,"  solemnly  affirmed  Douglas,  "  Dr.  Mc- 
Loughlin  has  applied  for  citizenship  in  the  United 
States !  Birnie,  too,  poor  fellow,  has  left  the  employ,  and 
is  concerned  in  a  saw-mill  with  some  Americans,  who,  it 
is  feared,  will  soon  ease  him  of  his  hard-earned  little 
means." 

Certainly  the  outlook  was  gloomy  for  the  great  fur 
company,  that  soon  now  must  abandon  its  Oregon  hunting1 
grounds.  Disintegration  had  already  set  in.  Even  the 
voyageurs  were  praying  to  be  made  American  citizens  in 
order  to  secure  land  claims. 

"  That  demoralizing  donation  law,"  -  how  the  mag 
nates  of  Vancouver  hated  it !  "  It  makes  our  servants 


1 82  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

restless    and    independent,    and    destroys    their    former 
systematic  obedience." 

"  David  Magloglin,  heemself,  haf  return  wit'  goods 
from  de  Islands  to  set  up  merchant,"  whispered  the 
gossipy  Canadians,  "  ant  Billee  McKay,  he  be  a  clerk 
at  Oregon  Ceety.  Boston  trade  pay  better." 

Then  one  day  came  a  little  Yankee  brig  from  Honolulu, 
spreading  the  news  up  the  Columbia :  "  Oregon  has  cut 
loose  from  Queen  Vic's  apron-strings.  No  war.  All  south 
of  the  forty -ninth  parallel  belongs  to  the  United  States." 
The  gunboat  "  Preble  "  had  brought  the  word  around 
Cape  Horn  on  her  way  to  China. 

Dr.  Tolmie  drew  a  relieved  sigh,  —  "  Far  better  that 
than  Folk's  loud  crow  of  '  Fifty-four-forty  or  fight.'  ' 
Tolmie's  faith  had  been  staked  on  the  Columbia  River 
boundary.  "  No  scheme  of  British  conception  could 
contend  against  such  a  liberal  measure  as  the  Linn 
Bill." 

The  Americans,  too,  sighed.     Some  were  indignant. 

"  If  we  had  had  a  railroad,"  said  Jesse  Applegate,  "  and 
had  taken  possession  with  an  army,  British  arrogance 
would  have  taken  a  much  lower  key,  and  Mr.  Folk's 
administration  would  not  have  dared  to  yield  an  inch  of 
Oregon." 

"  But,  after  all,  what  is  there  worth  having  north  of 
forty-nine?  A  few  hills,  a  fewr  valleys,  a  coastline  without 
resources.  It  is  gone,  and  a  good  riddance,"  vapored 
others,  endeavoring  to  console  themselves. 

"  As  might  have  been  expected,  Americans  have  entered 
the  back  door  and  taken  California  as  they  have  taken 
Oregon,"  grumbled  the  fur  traders  when  they  heard  it. 
Even  Canadians  on  the  Cowlitz  flung  to  the  breeze  an 
American  flag  made  by  Canadian  women,  and  Simon 
Plomondon  led  in  resolutions  of  loyalty  to  the  United 
States. 

Every  week,  now,  anxious  bateaux  from  Puget  Sound 
and  Vancouver  paddled  to  Oregon  City  for  "  The 
Spectator,"  and  forty  miles  from  up  the  Willamette 
galloped  Minto  and  the  Gilliams  for  the  precious  sheet  that 
kept  them  posted  on  the  movements  of  the  Pacific  world. 


THE    BOUNDARY    SETTLED  183 

Even  the  voyageurs  who  could  not  read  English  sub 
scribed  and  sent  the  paper  to  their  friends  in  Canada. 
Somehow,  this  newspaper  reminded  the  traders  of  their 
isolation. 

"  If  we  only  had  a  school  at  Fort  Simpson,"  groaned 
Chief  Factor  Work,  to  the  attentive  Tolmie.  "  My  three 
eldest  daughters  are  as  tall  as  their  mother.  I  am  instruct 
ing  them  the  best  I  can,  and  endeavoring  to  bring  them 
up  in  the  fear  of  God,  which  I  consider  of  far  more  im 
portance  than  many  accomplishments."  Anon,  retiring 
to  Bachelor's  Hall,  the  honest  old  Scotchman  opened  his 
heart  over  many  a  closely  written  page  to  his  old  fur 
trading  companion,  Edward  Ermatinger,  now  a  prosper 
ous  banker  at  St.  Thomas,  Upper  Canada. 

"  Who  would  have  expected  ever  to  see  this,  Ned,  when 
I  used  to  keep  you  up  all  night  chatting  at  Fort  Colville," 
he  added,  after  relating  the  recent  amazing  news.  "  I 
would  to  God  I  had  my  family  all  with  me  in  the  civilized 
world,  an  object  I  hope  yet  to  effect.  I  don't  know  where 
to  address  our  friend  Archy." 

For  Archibald  McDonald,  too,  had  left  the  fur  traders. 

When  the  springtime  honk,  honk,  honk  of  wild  geese 
all  day  fell  from  the  troubled  sky,  the  fur  traders  again 
were  paddling  away  on  distant  rivers,  and  settlers  were 
staking  out  Oregon  land  claims. 

"  Come,  boys,"  Colonel  Boone  proposed,  "  let  us  go 
back  after  our  property."  The  birds  were  calling,  the 
waters  were  falling,  —  Oregon  April  was  like  May  in 
Missouri. 

But  already  ahead  of  him  Indians  had  looted  Umpqua 
canyon.  Every  wagon  was  stripped ;  furniture,  cloth 
ing,  whatever  could  be  carried,  had  been  taken ;  the  rest, 
destroyed,  —  even  the  feather-bed.  '  Take  it,  father," 
Chloe  had  pleaded  when  they  left  Missouri.  "  It  belonged 
to  our  mother."  Now,  the  unsentimental  Indians  had 
ripped  it  open,  scattering  feathers  all  down  the  Umpqua 
mountains,  and  carried  off  the  tick!  Chloe's  precious 
linen  had  gone  with  the  rest,  to  enchance  the  drapery  of 
an  Indian  belle. 

"  But  the  compass,  boys,   Daniel   Boone's  compass." 


1 84  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Search  was  unavailing.  It,  too,  was  gone,  after  all  the 
battles  of  Dunmore's  clay  on  the  eve  of  the  Revolution, 
after  all  the  journeys  through  Cumberland  Gap  across 
the  dark  and  bloody  Kentucky,  into  the  forted  frontier 
of  Missouri  in  the  old  Spanish  eon,  into  the  Osage  and 
Kansas  borders,  taken  at  last  by  the  Indians  of  Oregon ! 

"  I  never  expect  to  see  it  again,"  grieved  the  Colonel. 
"  More  than  likely  by  this  time  Chief  John  and  his  Rogues 
have  broken  it  up  into  arrow-heads." 

A  little  below  Salem,  on  a  point  known  to  this  day  as 
Boone's  Ferry,  Alphonso  Boone  and  his  sons  located  on 
adjoining  tracts  of  a  thousand  acres  of  land.  On  a  big 
fir-tree  the  Colonel  chipped  his  name,  a  triple  log  cabin 
was  built  facing  the  river,  and  here  young  Curry,  paddling 
up  the  wintry  Willamette,  came  to  wed  the  beautiful 
Chloe. 

Many  lovers  had  Martha  Ann  Morrison  in  the  months 
since  her  father's  cabin  was  erected  on  the  old  site  of 
Fort  Clatsop,  lovers  whose  names  rank  among  builders 
of  States  and  captains  of  industry.  Every  evening  forest 
cavaliers  sought  the  hearth  of  Captain  Morrison. 

"  Will  you  marry  me,  Martha  Ann?"  begged  a  beau 
of  the  Columbia  woods.  "  I  have  a  good,  warm  cabin, 
and  as  fine  a  claim  as  there  is  in  Clatsop  County.  Come, 
now,  won't  you  marry  me  ?  " 

On  the  high-backed  settee  in  the  big  log  kitchen  within 
sound  of  the  rumbling  ocean  Martha  Ann  sat  with  her 
head  held  down,  counting  the  beads  of  her  rosebud  rosary. 
A  cloud  of  curls  fell  over  the  crimson  cheeks  as  she 
snatched  her  hand  away.  "  No,  I  '11  never  marry  you." 

Still  he  came.  "  We  did  n't  have  a  very  good  under 
standing  last  time,  Martha  Ann.  Won't  you  marry  me 
sometime?  " 

Again  the  curls  shook.  "  No,  I  '11  not  marry  you  now, 
nor  ever.  Don't  you  come  again." 

"  But,  Martha  Ann,  if  you  won't  marry  me,  my  part 
ner  wants  to  know  if  he  can't  come?  We  'd  like  to  have 
you  in  the  family,  anyway." 

"  No  cloth  in  all  Oregon,"  reported  Captain  Morrison, 
returning  from  a  tour  of  the  forts.  Even  flour-sacks, 


THE    BOUNDARY    SETTLED  185 

bed-ticking,  and  wagon-covers  were  cut  into  women's 
dresses.  In  the  last  outgrown  skirt  of  her  childhood, 
patched,  faded,  and  darned,  Martha  Ann  washed  the 
scant  linen  at  a  creek,  singing  in  a  voice  that  rivalled  the 
birds  for  melody.  Like  Homer's  Greek  Princess, 
Nausicaa,  Martha  Ann  spread  the  sheets  to  dry.  The 
sun  kindled  a  halo  upon  her  hair,  her  white  arms  gleamed, 
and  the  song  stopped.  In  the  far  border  of  her  father's 
clearing  appeared  a  well-dressed  gentleman. 

Martha  Ann  turned  to  fly.  "  Mother,  mother,  if  Joe 
Watt  comes  I  '11  hide."  Slender  and  full  of  grace,  her 
head  a  mop  of  curls,  her  dress  so  scant,  her  feet  so  white 
and  bare,  Joe  caught  only  the  broken  song  and  the  gleam 
of  her  twinkling  departure.  Night  came.  Joe  had  settled 
down  to  stay  a  week,  visiting  his  old  friends  of  the  prairie 
caravan. 

"  You  must  meet  him,  Martha  Ann,"  pleaded  her 
mother.  The  proud  little  beauty  yielded,  covering  her  face 
with  her  hands,  shaking  with  sobs  because  she  was  so 
ragged,  he  so  well  dressed. 

"  No,  no,"  ever  monosyllabled  the  mortified  queen  of 
Clatsop. 

But  Nancy  Irwin  Morrison  was  a  woman  of  resources. 
In  a  short  time  her  cabin  became  the  centre  of  an  entire 
industrial  plant  of  milling,  -dairying,  spinning,  weaving, 
and  soap-boiling,  as  well  as  the  curing  of  skins  and  the 
preparation  of  hemp  and  flax  for  her  loom.  In  a  mortar 
burnt  in  a  fir-log  the  boys  ground  the  wheat  that  made  the 
bread,  and  on  Winter  nights  by  the  big  fire  the  father  read 
"  Lewis  and  Clark,"  while  the  daughters  knit  and  plied 
the  needle.  Yellow  moccasins  beaded  with  Indian  em 
broidery,  soft  leggings  of  elkskin  from  the  same  herds 
that  clad  Lewis  and  Clark,  fringed  jackets  and  skirts  and 
girdles,  were  makeshifts  of  the  Morrison  girls.  With  the 
family  Bible  on  a, home-made  stand  the  kitchen  became 
the  germ  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  on  the  Lower 
Columbia,  and  the  little  log  schoolhottse  built  by  the 
Captain  alongside  his  dwelling  was  the  beginning  of  public 
schools  in  Clatsop  County. 

'*  What  a  pity  Martha  Ann  is  going  to  marry  John 


1 86  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Minto  and  go  off  to  live  in  that  wild  Willamette  Valley !  " 
Rachel  Kindred  felt  outraged  at  the  thought.  "  She  might 
have  done  as  well  nearer  home." 

Mrs.  James  Welch,  too,  denounced  it,  —  "  When  we 
have  so  few  white  women!  The  Astoria  boys  ought  to 
throw  him  into  the  river !  " 

"  Well,"  slowly  replied  the  sagacious  Mrs.  Morrison, 
"  so  long  as  John  Minto  can  work  at  a  day's  work,  his 
wife,  whoever  she  is,  will  be  well  cared  for,  for  John 
Minto  has  n't  a  lazy  bone  in  his  body." 

From  what  mysterious  receptacle  came  the  wedding 
finery,  shimmering  silk  with  a  sprig  of  lilac,  relic  of  her 
mother's  bridal  in  Tennessee,  "  silken  hose  and  satin 
shoon,"  and  a  brooch  of  antique  pattern?  Even  ball 
gowns,  wedding-dresses,  and  heirlooms  had  found  their 
way  across  the  plains. 

"  How  could  you  have  kept  them  hidden  from  us !  " 
exclaimed  the  girls  who  had  often  wondered  about  the 
contents  of  "  that  chest  "  in  the  back  of  the  big  travelling 
wagon.  Now,  its  gossamer  lace  and  bits  of  ribbon  told, 
as  they  had  never  guessed  before,  the  story  of  the  time 
when  "  that  Morrison  boy  "  from  Har rod's  Fort  married 
Judge  Irwin's  daughter. 

At  least  five  of  John's  would-be  rivals  helped  to  celebrate 
the  wedding.     Hardly  could  the  fiddler  play,  his  hand 
shook  so,  for  Martha  Ann  was  going,   going,  gone - 
to  another! 

With  homespun  linen  Martha  Ann  set  out  for  her  new 
home.  Two  sheets,  two  thin  pillows,  two  small  quilts 
that  had  crossed  the  plains,  one  thin  feather-bed,  two  old 
tin  plates,  one  broken  knife,  and  one  whole  fork  made  up 
the  wedding  dowry. 

"  No  dishes  to  be  had  at  Oregon  City,  nothing  but  three 
butcher-knives  and  one  small  stew-kettle,"  reported  the 
anxious  bridegroom  on  his  wedding  journey.  But  undis 
mayed,  the  rosy-cheeked,  black-eyed  bride  was  as  happy 
as  Chloe  Boone  at  the  entrance  of  a  new  and  untried 
future. 

Disappointed  but  undaunted,  and  doubly  now  im 
pressed  with  the  necessity  for  clothing,  Joe  Watt  spent 


THE    BOUNDARY    SETTLED  187 

long  evenings  with  Dr.  McLoughlin  at  Oregon  City, 
discussing  the  needs  of  the  settlement. 

"  They  must  get  sheep,  and  spin  and  weave  and  make 
their  own  cloth,"  counselled  the  Doctor. 

In  three  years  Joe  Watt  had  saved  up  thirteen  hundred 
dollars. 

"  I  will  go  home  and  get  a  flock  of  sheep,"  he  said ;  and 
early  in  May  he  set  out  through  the  now  famous  pass  of 
Umpqua  canyon.  For  miles  that  lonely  mountain  gap  was 
strewn  with  the  wreckage  of  cartwheels  and  crockery. 
On,  on,  every  step  of  the  way  east,  Joe  Watt  met  "  prairie 
schooners,"  with  sunburnt  inmates  leaning  to  catch  a  good 
word  from  the  land  to  which  they  were  journeying. 

"  Going  hack  after  sheep,  did  you  say  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  must  spin  and  weave  and  make  your  own 
cloth." 

Farmers  with  sheep  felt  encouraged.  Merchants  saw 
their  fortunes  ahead,  and  Henderson  Luelling,  of  Iowa, 
guarded  with  even  more  care  his  travelling  nursery  of 
apples,  pears,  plums,  cherries,  berries,  quinces,  grapes,  and 
flowers  planted  in  earth  in  his  wagon  beds,  fruits  that 
were  to  bring  more  fame  and  fortune  to  Oregon  than  any 
ship  that  entered  the  Columbia  River. 

And  ships  were  coming. 

The  moment  the  boundary  line  was  settled,  Benton, 
"  Old  Bullion,"  began  studying  the  Columbia  harbor. 
"  I  tell  you,  gentlemen,  experts  report  to  me  that  the 
Columbia  River  has  a  better  harbor  than  that  of  New 
York  City.  It  has  deeper  water,  better  channels,  is  more 
accessible  to  the  sea,  has  no  points  off  the  mouth  to  shelter 
the  enemy's  cruisers,  the  winds  are  regular  and  steady,  it 
is  free  from  ice,  and  is  never  too  warm." 


1 88  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 


x 

DOUGLAS   ABANDONS   THE   COLUMBIA 

"ASSESSMENT?  taxes?  What  do  you  mean?" 
/  \  gasped  Douglas  of  Vancouver,  who  appeared  to 
J^  \  have  no  more  idea  of  American  methods  than  a 
chief  factor  of  the  commerce  of  the  moon.  "  The  idea 
of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company's  property  being  assessed 
by  the  Provisional  Government  of  Oregon  is  absurd." 

Dan  Clark,  assessor  of  Tualatin  County,  bit  his  pen 
and  reflected.  "  Well,  Mr.  Douglas,  if  you  will  not  give 
me  the  property  you  have  at  the  dairy  farm,  the  old 
Wapato,  I  shall  be  obliged  to  go  there  and  take  it  myself. 
The  law  makes  it  my  duty  to  assess  it." 

The  necessity  of  paying  taxes  in  Oregon,  as  much  as 
anything,  resolved  the  Company  to  move  to  a  new  and 
northern  headquarters  in  a  second  England,  with  oaks  so 
old,  moss-hung,  and  mistletoed  that  Druids  might  well 
have  worshipped  there.  When  James  Douglas  and  his 
family  disembarked  from  the  little  schooner  "  Cadboro," 
upon  the  white  sands  of  Cadboro  Bay  beach,  Vancouver 
Island,  in  June,  1849,  ne  nad  reconciled  himself  to  giving 
up  the  Columbia.  The  wreck  and  ruin  of  fur  trading 
caused  by  the  rush  of  Americans,  the  boundary  settle 
ment,  the  Whitman  massacre,  swift  on  the  heels  of 
which  had  followed  the  Cayuse  war  and  the  unparalleled 
gold  stampede  to  California,  all  together  decided  Douglas 
to  seek  another  harbor  in  some  wild  new  northern  island. 

A  full  year  previously  whisperings  of  gold  had  come 
among  the  American  settlers,  when  some  of  the  boys  of 
Gilliam's  neighborhood  had  sent  back  word  from  Sutter's 
fort  on  the  Sacramento. 

"  I  has  come  immediately  rich,  and  I  does  vish  to  do 
sometings  vor  mine  old  frents,"  Captain  Sutter,  the 
Swiss,  had  whispered  to  his  Oregon  favorites.  "  You 


DOUGLAS   ABANDONS   THE  COLUMBIA     189 

must  go  to  Coloma,  tare  ish  golt  fount  tare,  and 
you  all  gets  rich.  You  can  shust  takes  it  out  as  you 
pleese." 

Sometime  in  July  a  small  sailing  vessel  ran  up  to 
Oregon  City.  "  Picks,  pans,  shovels,  flour,  grain,  vege 
tables,  lumber/'  the  Captain  wanted.  But  to  all  inquiries 
as  to  his  business  or  destination  the  Captain's  lips  closed 
like  a  steel  trap,  until  the  ship  was  laden. 

"  Must  be  a  pirate,"  ran  the  shudder  up  through  the 
village.  A  crowd  gathered.  "  Ought  to  be  arrested," 
some  said. 

"  Ah,  boys,  I  had  almost  forgotten."  For  the  first  time 
the  mysterious  stranger's  lips  parted  in  a  smile.  "  Here 
is  a  letter  for  Colonel  Alphonso  Boone,  grandson  of 
Daniel  Boone.  Any  such  settler  in  Oregon  ?  " 

Quick  hands  grasped  the  document.  Colonel  Boone 
had  opened  a  boat-line  on  the  river,  just  now  bringing 
down  wheat  for  Dr.  McLoughlin.  He  took  the  letter, 
—  from  Governor  Boggs,  now  an  honored  alcalde  at 
Sonoma,  California. 

:'  Yes,  it  is  true,  gold  is  discovered  in  great  quantities. 
Come,  bag  and  baggage." 

That  Colonel  Boone  had  received  such  a  word  from 
Governor  Boggs  set  all  Oregon  astir.  No  longer  could 
it  be  doubted;  there  must  be  gold,  and  discovered  by 
James  W.  Marshall  at  that,  a  carriage-builder  and  expert 
in  wood- work  who  had  come  with  the  trains  of  '44  and 
made  his  home  at  Gilliam's.  Why,  even  the  ploughs  of 
the  Gilliam  neighborhood  had  been  stocked  by  "  Jimmy  " 
Marshall. 

"  Governor  Boggs  has  sent  word  to  come."  Every 
where  immigrants  were  trading  good  horses  for  tough 
Indian  ponies,  packing  even  oxen  with  tools  and  pro 
visions,  to  hurry  away. 

Oregon  bade  fair  to  be  depopulated.  Some  went  by 
sea,  —  stiff  breakers  over  the  Columbia  bar  reminding 
them  of  herds  of  buffaloes  they  had  seen  thundering 
across  the  plains,  —  some  by  land,  men  who  had  broken 
roads  into  Oregon  making  up  a  train  to  open  the  first 
wagon  road  over  the  Siskiyous  into  California.  Tom 


190  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

McKay  pointed  out  the  traders'  pack-trail;  behind  fol 
lowed  the  axemen,  cutting. 

In  a  day  gold  brought  horror  to  the  Hudson  Bay  forts, 
overturning  the  feudal  regime  of  the  fur  traders  exactly 
as  it  overturned  the  baronial  rule  of  Spanish  California. 
Douglas  and  Ogden  shook  doubting  heads.  "  This  gold 
will  become  a  curse."  Every  ship  brought  glittering 
news. 

"  Why  should  we  stay  here?"  whispered  voyageurs, 
servants,  employes  of  every  rank  and  grade,  whose  con 
tact  with  Americans  had  already  given  a  glimpse  of  per 
sonal  freedom.  In  vain  the  gates  were  watched,  deserters 
scaled  the  very  palisades.  Glad  to  escape,  by  boat  they 
fled,  by  canoe,  or  on  horseback.  If  men  were  sent  to 
hunt  up  deserters,  they  too  were  lost.  Only  the  faithful 
Kanakas  and  a  few  officers  were  left  to  man  Vancouver. 

"Mines!  mines!  what  a  craze!  We  shall  have  to 
employ  Indians !  "  Douglas  was  at  his  wits'  end.  But 
even  Indians  discovered  how  defenceless  Vancouver  was, 
when  at  evening  dusk  or  daybreak  they  descried  their 
own  tribesmen  standing  on  the  pickets. 

In  front  of  Vancouver  the  bark  "  Columbia  "  lay  half 
laden  with  wheat  for  Sitka;  the  crew  had  disappeared. 
Neither  the  schooner  "  Caclboro,"  the  "  Beaver,"  nor  the 
new  steamer  "  Otter  "  could  be  relied  on.  Captain  Mc- 
Neill,  who  never  hesitated  to  discipline  offenders  in 
bastion  or  on  shipboard,  found  shackles  of  iron  or  im 
prisonment  of  no  avail;  the  men  would  escape.  Even 
Indians  looked  out  for  deserters  and  felt  justified  in 
shooting  and  scalping  them. 

"  Gold  on  the  Sacramento !  "  Chief  Factor  Work  was 
astonished  when  for  the  last  time  he  reached  the  old  hall 
at  Vancouver.  "  I  know  the  spot  well ;  we  encamped 
there."  Then,  for  a  moment,  the  trader  became  remin 
iscent  of  those  days  when  he  found  whole  California 
villages  filled  with  the  dead,  and  clogs  howling  around 
tepees  where  not  an  Indian  remained  alive. 

Three  regents  ruled  now  at  Vancouver,  —  Douglas, 
Work,  and  Ogden,  —  and  great  was  their  gossiping  about 
the  "  Big  Doctor  "  at  Oregon  City. 


DOUGLAS  ABANDONS  THE  COLUMBIA     191 

"  Why,  Dr.  McLoughlin  might  obtain  two  hundred 
thousand  dollars  for  his  property,  and  is  making  money 
fast.  But  what  a  regret  that  he  lowers  himself  by  keep 
ing  shop  and  retailing  out  to  Yankees !  This  is  no  dis 
grace  to  any  person  who  has  to  do  so;  but  that  is  not 
the  case  with  him,  and  a  man  of  his  standing  and  means 
might  be  better  occupied." 

"  All  rank  in  society  is  levelled,"  moaned  Ogden,  shak 
ing  his  grizzled  locks.  "  Why,  even  among  the  Indians 
money  is  so  plentiful  that  it  is  reckoned  of  little  value. 
And  right  here  in  Fort  Vancouver  you  may  meet  worth 
less  fellows  who  have  long  been  under  our  orders  now 
possessed  of  more  means  than  we  ourselves." 

It  cut  to  the  core  old  Hudson  Bay  notions  of  rank  and 
class  and  authority,  and  swept  like  a  hurricane  over  all 
established  regulations  of  gentlemen  and  servants.  De 
mocracy  came  in  with  gold.  No  wonder  Douglas  wanted 
to  get  out  of  the  country.  At  Nisqually  it  was  the  same, 
—  clockwork  routine  was  broken  up,  humdrum  days  were 
no  more. 

"  The  great  folks  are  coming,  we  must  make  some  high 
four-post  bedsteads,"  was  Tolmie's  sudden  order  to  the 
head  carpenter  at  Nisqually.  "  Affairs  must  be  put  in 
shape;  Chief  Factor  James  Douglas  is  coming  with  all 
his  family." 

Never  such  a  rush  had  been  around  the  fort.  Not  only 
high  four-post  bedsteads,  but  chairs  and  tables  must  evolve 
instanter  out  of  the  Puget  forests.1  Out  in  the  fields  an 
Indian  mob  were  planting  potatoes.  Down  by  the  creek, 
Sequalitchew,  the  wool  harvest,  was  in  full  swing. 

Every  hand  knew  that  Douglas  was  coming,  even  the 
Indians,  whose  daughters  and  sisters  were  wedded  to 
Canadians.  A  hundred  Nisquallies  were  camped  in  their 
mat  lodges  just  outside  the  fort,  "busy  with  the  sheep. 
With  many  a  race  and  many  a  chase  the  woolly  creatures 
were  caught  by  the  Indian  men.  Indian  women  grabbed 
them  with  firm  hand  at  the  washing  and  shearing.  With 
many  a  bleat  and  many  a  baa-baa  from  the  lively 
meadows,  the  morning  sun  of  May  Day  rose  high  and 
higher  above  Rainier. 


192  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

The  sheep-shearing  had  gathered  large  numbers  of 
extra  hands,  besides  unemployed  stragglers  and  camp 
followers  from  other  tribes  that  loved  the  novel  excite 
ment.  The  wool  harvest  was  in  full  swing  when,  just  as 
the  horn  blew  for  dinner  one  day,  Chief  Factor  Douglas 
arrived  on  horseback  from  Vancouver  with  his  wife  and 
daughters,  followed  in  the  afternoon  by  five  wagons 
containing  cases  of  gold-dust,  bales  of  furs,  and  the 
Douglas  goods. 

The  high-post  bedsteads  were  ready,  the  new  tables 
were  groaning  with  Tamaree's  best  cookery.  Even 
gold  troubles  were  forgotten  in  the  newer  sensations 
of  well-dressed  women  and  convivial  dinners  at  old 
Fort  Nisqually.  The  handsome  daughters  of  Douglas, 
fresh  from  Mrs.  Thornton's  Seminary  at  Oregon  City, 
romped,  as  girls  will,  through  the  bachelor  halls,  stir 
ring  not  a  little  the  susceptible  heart  of  the  lonely  fur 
trader.  He  who  swam  the  Willamette  to  court  his  lassie 
cherished  her  yet,  and  she  had  come  to  live  at  Fort 
Victoria. 

All  summer  the  "  Cadboro  "  plied  across  the  Sound, 
transferring  cattle,  sheep,  pigs,  flour  from  Colonel  Sim- 
mons's  mill  at  Tumwater,  cases  of  gold-dust  and  the 
Douglas  goods  to  Victoria,  and  in  June  James  Douglas 
himself  and  all  his  family  passed  over  to  the  province 
he  was  destined  to  rule  for  many  a  day.  And  with  him 
went  the  pennant.  No  longer  was  Vancouver  old  fort 
the  headquarters  of  fur  trading  on  the  Pacific. 

Along  toward  Christmas  Dr.  Tolmie  crossed  the  Sound 
in  a  war  canoe,  to  his  wedding  with  the  maid  for  whom 
he  swam  the  Willamette.  Bleak  and  chill  the  southwest 
wind  blew  up  from  Fuca,  but  within  Victoria  Fort  were 
warmth  and  music,  as  with  proud  and  swelling  hearts 
Chief  Factor  Work  and  his  wife  looked  on  while  the 
lines  were  read  and  the  feast  was  spread  that  made 
Jeannie  the  mistress  of  Fort  Nisqually. 

In  her  own  new  life  Oregon  scarce  noted  the  departure 
of  Douglas.  In  that  same  year,  from  the  States,  a 
mounted  rifle  regiment  more  dead  than  alive  reached  the 
Dalles. 


DOUGLAS  ABANDONS  THE  COLUMBIA     193 

Joe  Watt  had  come  back  with  a  flock  of  three  hun 
dred  fine-fleeced  merino  sheep.  But  no  one  in  Oregon 
cared  about  sheep  now;  ships  from  every  shore  were 
bringing  in  cloths,  —  cloths  from  the  best  mills  of  Europe 
and  America.  No  more  wagon  covers  were  cut  up  for 
girls'  dresses.  Where  last  year  immigrants  wore  tanned 
skins  and  homespun,  now  they  flocked  to  church  in  silks, 
velvets,  and  broadcloth.  But  Joe  hung  on  to  his  sheep. 
"  This  fever  will  spend  itself.  By-and-bye  I  shall  have 
wool  enough."  So  wrhile  others  were  exploring  every 
nook  and  cranny  for  gold,  Joe  Watt  was  planning  for 
that  woollen  mill. 

George  L.  Curry's  old  jeweller's  craft  came  into  play, 

"  They  say  you  can  make  rings  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

And  then  began  such  a  flocking  to  Curry's  impromptu 
workshop  that  all  the  young  men  in  the  country  were 
bringing  gold-dust  to  get  rings  for  their  sweethearts. 
And  for  every  ring  manufactured  Curry  received  ten 
dollars. 

Mexican  doubloons  were  flying  everywhere,  building 
up  the  brisk  trade  of  the  coast.  Where  of  old  two  or 
three  ships  a  year  had  entered  the  Columbia  now  fifty 
arrived  in  '49.  At  Portland  twenty  vessels  stood  wait 
ing  at  once  for  cargoes ;  and  Oregon  flour  taken  down 
to  California  sold  for  one  hundred  dollars  a  barrel. 
Butter,  eggs,  and  vegetables  were  worth  their  weight  in 
gold.  Packed  in  moss  like  jewels,  apples  from  Luelling's 
infant  orchards  brought  from  two  to  five  dollars  apiece 
in  San  Francisco,  and  two  years  later  the  sturdy  nursery 
man  who  had  hauled  his  sprouts  across  the  plains  gave 
Oregon  her  fame  as  the  "  Land  of  Big  Red  Apples." 


BOOK    III 

JAPAN 


BOOK    III 

JAPAN 

I 

THE   FLIGHT   OF   RANALD 

"  f~|   J  HE  Americans  have  everything-  up  to  the  49th 
parallel." 

A          Archibald  McDonald  of  Fort  Colville  heard 
it  with  amazement. 

"  Including  Puget  Sound  ?  Very  well,  then,  the  bound 
ary  settled,  as  heir  and  grandson  of  Old  King  Cumcumly 
my  son  Ranald  stands  a  fair  show  to  come  into  a  fortune." 
Twenty  years  Archibald  McDonald  had  been  buried 
with  the  fur  traders ;  the  year  of  his  release  was  at  hand, 
and  the  early  March  "  Despatch  "  found  the  Chief  Factor 
departing  with  his  family  for  Canada.  It  was  ten  years 
now  since  Ranald  McDonald,  a  lad  of  thirteen,  had 
crossed  that  northern  wild  with  Duncan  Finlayson  to 
enter  St.  John's  Academy  at  Red  River.  Dominick 
Pambrun  had  graduated  and  become  a  teacher,  but 
Ranald  had  been  forwarded  to  St.  Thomas,  County  of 
Elgin,  Canada,  to  become  a  clerk  in  the  bank  of  his 
father's  old  friend,  Edward  Ermatinger. 

A  youth,  highly  imaginative,  seated  on  the  high  stool 
of  the  Bank  of  Elgin,  Ranald  McDonald  dreamed  of  his 
own  future.  Kindness  itself  was  his  father's  old  com 
rade,  now  the  Honorable  Edward  Ermatinger,  member 
of  the  Canadian  Parliament;  he  even  sometimes  affec 
tionately  called  the  lad  "  Cumcumly."  What  a  train 
of  memories  that  name  aroused !  —  of  the  old  King 


198          MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

of  the  Sea,  and  stories  of  castaways,  and  of  that 
never-to-be-forgotten  Summer  with  Ewa  and  Kioko 
and  Oto,  his  Japanese  friends  in  the  hospital  at  Fort 
Vancouver. 

"  Banking,  "or  dealing  with  money  in  any  way,  is  not 
to  my  taste,"  Ranald  rebelled  in  his  heart.  "  I  hate  the 
dirty  thing.  I  have  no  ambition  for  riches.  '  Give  us 
this  day  our  daily  bread  '  is  prayer  enough  for  me.  So 
far  it  has  never  failed  me.  I  have  no  inclination  for  the 
professions.  Home  I  have  not,  for  my  father  with  his 
family  is  still  a  denizen  of  that  other  world  beyond 
the  terrible  —  the  mountains  of  the  West,  still  in  a 
service  that  may  at  any  moment  send  him  to  Labrador 
or  Alaska.  I  must  cease  from  being  a  burden  to  my 
kind  father,  whose  large  and  increasing  family,  most  of 
them  now  in  costly  institutions,  have  better  claims  upon 
him." 

Then,  —  day  after  day  in  the  solitude  of  the  bank,  - 
more  and  more,  in  spite  of  his  training  for  civilization, 
Ranald  felt  ever  and  uncontrollably  in  his  blood  the  wild 
strain  for  wandering  freedom,  imprints  of  his  Highland 
father  of  Glencoe,  or  possibly  of  his  Indian  mother  of 
the  Pacific  shore.  With  no  one  to  consult  in  confidence, 
he  resolved  to  follow  his  own  bent,  to  go  forth  with  the 
firm  purpose  of  trying  an  adventure.  Long  had  he 
thought  of  it,  long  had  the  evolution  of  his  plan  deeply 
engaged  him ;  sitting  there  on  the  high  stool  of  the  Bank 
of  Elgin,  Ranald  McDonald  had  resolved  to  break  into 
Japan. 

One  morning  the  Honorable  Mr.  Ermatinger  arrived, 
to  find  the  high  stool  empty  and  Ranald  gone.  The 
proud  and  lonely  boy,  cut  off  by  a  tint  of  Indian  from 
social  amenities  of  the  white  race,  had  fled.  Hurriedly 
the  great  man  looked  —  his  money  was  all  there,  the 
books  were  right,  even  the  floor  was  swept,  and  shavings 
were  ready  for  the  unlighted  fire ;  but  Ranald  —  Ranald 
was  not  there. 

"  I  cannot  account  for  it !  He  was  a  likely  boy,  quiet, 
obedient,  polite,  and  polished  as  a  Frenchman.  But 
Indian  blood  will  tell,  will  tell ! "  Shaking  his  head 


THE    FLIGHT    OF    RANALD  199 

ominously  the  Honorable  Edward  Ermatinger  secured 
another  bank  accountant,  and  work  went  on  as  before. 

When  Chief  Factor  Archibald  McDonald  heard,  he 
was  deeply  grieved  by  this  disaffection  on  the  part  of 
Ranald,  and  to  intimates  of  the  Fur  Company  he  did  not 
fail  to  voice  his  disappointment  at  this  waywardness  of 
his  Chinook  son.  "  After  all  my  care  and  my  savings 
spent  freely  for  his  education !  I  tried  to  make  a  man  of 
him,  but  it  was  of  no  use.  The  Indian  will  come  upper 
most  every  time." 

But  now  that  the  boundary  was  settled,  more  than  ever 
the  presence  of  Ranald  was  a  point  of  importance.  A 
new  chief  ruled  at  Colville,  —  McDonald  was  gone  after 
the  boy.  "  For  will  not  every  Indian  get  his  rights?  "  he 
argued.  "  Old  Cumcumly's  land  will  be  paid  for,  and 
as  nearest  of  kin  Ranald  will  receive  his  inheritance." 
Furs,  forts,  all  were  thrown  to  the  winds  as  Archibald 
McDonald  posted  across  North  America  to  consult  his 
old  friend  Duncan  Finlayson,  now  the  great  man  of  Fort 
Garry. 

"  I  fully  agree  with  you,"  assented  Governor  Finlay 
son.  "  The  boy  must  be  found,  and  I  will  assist  you." 
With  the  slightest  clew  the  two  set  out  to  New  York  with 
the  object  of  intercepting  Ranald  and  bringing  him  home 
to  Oregon.  But  alas !  beyond  New  York  the  thread  was 
lost.  Ranald  had  shipped  in  a  whaler. 

"  Gone  to  sea  ?  Who  ever  heard  of  an  Indian  going 
to  sea?  What  could  have  induced  the  lad  born  to  the 
land  and  the  fur  trade  to  turn  himself  into  a  sailor?  " 

Had  Archibald  McDonald  forgotten  that  birthplace 
beside  the  Pacific?  Had  he  forgotten  that  old  Cum- 
cumly  was  literally  of  the  sea,  born  of  long  ancestry  that 
had  ridden  the  billows  unhampered  and  unterrified? 
that  Cumcumly  himself  in  his  youth  often  ventured  into 
the  deep  to  spear  the  whale  and  tow  him  in  ? 

Heartbroken,  disappointed,  and  discouraged,  the  Chief 
Factor  gathered  his  family  and  settled  near  Montreal. 
And  yet,  now  and  then  hoping  against  hope,  he  said  to 
his  friends,  "  Possibly,  possibly  the  boy  has  gone  to 
Oregon  by  ship."  Sir  George  Simpson  thought  so,  and 


200  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Mr.  Ermatinger,  comforting  McDonald.  But  when,  after 
long  silence,  a  clipping  from  a  Sandwich  Island  news 
paper  gave  account  of  the  loss  of  Ranald  McDonald  from 
a  whaler  on  the  shores  of  Japan,  his  father  and  friends 
gave  up  all  hope.  "  The  boy  certainly  has  perished." 


II 
ABOARD   A   WHALER 

:  T  WILL  solve  the  mystery  at  any  cost  of  effort,  even 
of  life  itself,"  Ranald  had  been  soliloquizing.  "  I 
A  will  go  to  Japan.  I  will  present  myself  as  a  cast 
away,  and  with  all  seeming  confidence  rely  on  their  hu 
manity.  I  cannot  believe  them  wholly  lost  to  it.  The 
main  difficulty  will  be  to  disguise  my  motive,  to  learn  of 
them,  and,  if  possible,  to  become  their  teacher."  With 
such  a  resolve  in  his  heroic  heart  Ranald  McDonald  had 
prepared  to  leave  the  bank  of  Elgin.  A  lover  of  books, 
the  lad  took  with  him  the  precious  old  Bible  his  father 
had  given,  a  prayer-book,  grammar,  dictionary,  geog 
raphy,  a  nautical  almanac,  and  an  English  history.  "  For 
a  mere  castaway  from  a  whaling  ship  I  fear  that  such 
freight  will  excite  suspicion,  but  I  will  have  my  story 
ready,"  mused  Ranald  as  he  packed  his  treasures.  Almost 
a  monomaniac  he  had  become,  planning  this  out  in  the 
solitude  of  the  little  bank.  Without  friends  or  influence, 
with  little  means,  and  with  no  hope  of  sympathy  in  such 
a  scheme,  still  Ranald  sagaciously  kept  the  secret  hid  in 
his  own  bosom. 

With  sack  in  hand,  telling  no  one,  forth  he  walked, 
shipped  on  the  lakes,  continued  west  to  St.  Paul,  and,  as 
a  boat-hand  on  one  of  the  palace  steamers  of  the  Missis 
sippi,  made  his  way  to  New  Orleans,  the  Gulf,  and  to 
New  York  City;  and  there,  on  the  second  day  of  Decem 
ber,  1845,  he  shipped  before  the  mast  on  board  the 


ABOARD    A    WHALER  201 

whaler  "  Plymouth,"  of  Sag  Harbor,  Captain  Lawrence 
B.  Edwards,  for  the  Sandwich  Islands. 

"  That  will  be  my  jumping-off  place,"  thought  Ranald, 
to  whom  tales  of  the  Islands  had  always  been  familiar. 
For  was  not  that  the  home  of  the  curly-haired  Kanakas 
who  served  in  his  father's  kitchen,  and  the  port  to  which 
every  year  the  little  "  Cadboro "  carried  her  lumber? 
Moreover  the  Hudson  Bay  people  had  a  post  there,  in 
fact,  almost  considered  Hawaii  their  own  territory. 
After  two  years  at  sea  and  a  glimpse  of  Yerba  Buena, 
the  future  San  Francisco,  Ranald  found  himself  at  the 
port  of  Lahaina  in  Oahu,  one  of  the  Hawaiian  group. 

"  And  now  for  a  whaler  bound  for  the  Sea  of  Japan." 

After  three  weeks'  sightseeing  through  the  Islands, 
Ranald  came  again  upon  Captain  Edwards,  refitting  in 
Kalakekua  Bay.  Joyfully  he  approached. 

"  Captain  Edwards,  I  want  to  reship  with  you  on  the 
ordinary  partnership  terms,  but  with  a  special  stipulation 
on  my  part." 

"  And  pray  what  may  that  be?  "  The  Captain  wiped 
his  perspiring  brow. 

'  That  I  may  be  free  to  leave  the  ship  off  the  coast 
of  Japan  whenever  and  wherever  I  shall  desire." 

"  Just  when  you  see  fittin'  an'  suitin'  ?  Could  n't  con 
sent  to  it."  The  Captain  shook  his  head.  "  That  coast 
o'  Japan  is  death  to  sailors,  —  they  '11  never  permit  your 
landing  alive.  •  We  're  warned  never  to  come  within, 
gunshot,  not  even  for  water.  Handsome  country,  too,  - 
groves  and  gardens  to  the  very  hilltops." 

'  Then  I  must  find  a  captain  that  will  take  me,"  and 
reluctantly  Ranald  turned  away. 

At  this  Captain  Edwards,  short  of  hands,  relented, 
and  finally  agreed  to  teach  the  lad  navigation,  and,  when 
the  ship  was  full,  to  sell  him  a  small  boat  rigged  for 
sailing,  a  quadrant  to  take  observations  for  latitude  and 
longitude,  and  provisions.  "  But  I  have  no  expectation 
that  such  a  condition  will  ever  be  exacted,"  concluded 
the  Captain,  signing  up  the  papers.  "  You  '11  weaken 
when  you  see  the  barelegged  brown  men  shakin'  their 
swords  at  ye.  They  're  barbarians,  the  Japanese." 


202  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

With  a  crew  by  this  time  complete,  Captain  Edwards 
of  the  "  Plymouth  "  left  the  Islands  for  Hong  Kong 
in  company  with  the  whaler  "  David  Paddock,"  Captain 
Swan  of  Nantucket,  sighting  the  Ladrones  on  the  way 
and  touching  at  Gregan  for  wood  and  water.  In  the 
Strait  of  Formosa  the  "  Plymouth  "  encountered  a  school 
of  sperm  whales  and  fell  to  harpooning.  Later,  after  re 
fitting  at  Hong  Kong,  the  eager  whale-hunter  slid  into 
the  smooth  blue  Sea  of  Japan. 

"  Sparms  so  numerous  there  's  no  occasion  to  chase 
'em,"  said  the  Captain.  In  short,  there  was  nothing 
but  to  lower  boats,  harpoon,  and  bring  them  alongside 
for  stripping,  at  which  work  Ranald  took  his  share  with 
the  rest.  Following  the  school  north,  toward  the  latter 
part  of  May  the  "  Plymouth "  worked  up  into  the 
Channel  of  Tartary,  where  more  were  taken,  while  the 
toiling  sailors  sang: 

"  Oh,  the  rare  old  whale  'mid  storm  and  gale 

In  his  ocean  home  will  be, 
A  giant  in  might,  where  might  is  right, 
And  king  of  the  boundless  sea. 

"  A  wondrous  tale  could  the  rare  old  whale 

Of  the  mighty  deep  disclose, 
Of  the  skeleton  forms  of  bygone  storms, 
And  of  treasures  that  no  one  knows. 

"  Oh,  the  whale  is  free  in  the  boundless  sea, 

He  lives  for  a  thousand  years, 
He  sinks  to  rest  on  the  billows'  breast 
Nor  the  roughest  tempest  fears. 

"The  howling  blast  as  it  hurries  past 

Is  music  to  lull  him  to  sleep, 
And  he  scatters  the  spray  in  his  boisterous  play 
As  he  dashes  —  the  King  of  the  deep." 

As  their  lusty  voices  broke  on  the  crisp  Spring  air, 
strange  birds  in  flocks  and  flights  swooped  toward  their 
sails  and  started  back,  as  if  carrying  messages  to  a 
listening  kingdom. 

"  A  thousand  spouters,  now,  Captain,  the  ship  's  nearly 
full,"  said  Ranald  one  golden  June  evening  off  Saghalien. 
"  Let  us  tack  toward  Japan,  where  I  intend  to  land." 


ABOARD    A   WHALER  203 

Still  incredulous,  Captain  Edwards  complied,  ever 
falling  in  with  additional  prizes,  until  on  the  last  ground 
from  twenty-five  to  thirty  whale-ships  were  sighted,  so 
rapidly  was  America  sending  hither  her  rangers  of  the 
deep. 

"  And  according  to  our  bargain,"  continued  Ranald, 
"  I  want  to  buy  that  '  Little  Plymouth,'  the  one  made 
especially  for  yourself,  rigged  for  sailing;  and  I  need 
a  compass  and  sextant,  and  provisions  for  thirty-six 
days.  I  also  assign  to  you,  in  trust,  the  balance  of  my 
share  in  this  whaling  adventure." 

With  reluctance  Captain  Edwards  consented  according 
to  the  stipulation,  charring  good-humoredly  at  this  Quix 
otic  enterprise  and  endeavoring  to  persuade  its  abandon 
ment.  The  best  boat  of  the  ship  Ranald  was  permitted 
to  choose;  the  carpenter  decked  her  partially  over;  a 
sail  and  compass,  bread,  meat,  and  water  were  put  in, 
and  the  little  chest  of  precious  books.  At  four  o'clock 
in  the  morning  of  the  28th  of  June,  1848,  all  hands  were 
called,  the  reefs  were  shaken  out,  topsails  and  topgallant 
sails  were  set,  as  with  a  spanking  breeze  on  the 
starboard  beam  the  "  Plymouth  "  steered  for  Japan. 

"  Better  give  it  up,  Mac,"  earnestly  remonstrated  cap 
tain  and  crew,  as  like  a  tortoise  the  heavy-laden  whaler 
ploughed  landward.  "  'T  is  a  hazardous  undertaking." 

"No,  I  shall  learn  the  language,"  persisted  Ranald; 
"  and  then,  if  the  English  or  Americans  ever  open  trade 
I  shall  be  on  hand  as  interpreter." 

Five  miles  from  the  misty  line  of  Japan  the  "  Little 
Plymouth "  \vas  launched,  and  Ranald  stepped  in  with 
two  sailors  to  help  him  trim  her.  "  No,  we  will  not 
unloose  the  knot,"  cried  his  brother  tars  when  back  on 
shipboard  came  the  last  moment  to  sever  the  tie  that 
bound  him  to  them.  "  Let  me  go  with  you !  "  One 
McKay  leaned  over  with  tears,  but  Ranald  shook  his 
head  as  with  swelling  heart  and  averted  face  he  himself 
cut  the  rope  by  which  he  hung  to  home  and  country. 
With  a  quivering  "  God  bless  you,  Mac !  "  they  bade 
him  a  long  and,  as  they  believed,  a  last  adieu. 

Like  an  arrow  the  "  Little  Plymouth  "  darted  through 


204          MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

the  waves,  and  all  gathered  to  see  the  last  of  the  bold 
adventurer.  He  took  off  his  hat  and  waved  it,  but  in 
silence.  The  salute  was  returned  from  the  ship's  com 
pany,  and  presently,  with  the  order  to  brace  the  main- 
yard,  the  big  black  whaler  was  speeding  in  an  opposite 
direction.  From  the  mast  the  little  bark  aft  was  viewed 
with  anxious  eye,  then  the  spyglass  passed  from  hand 
to  hand.  Every  man  felt  oppressed  as  with  a  death. 
"  But  at  least,"  they  all  agreed,  "  no  one  can  blame 
Captain  Edwards  for  leaving  him  in  such  a  manner. 
His  mind  was  not  to  be  changed." 

With  light  hand  on  the  tiller,  a  thrill  shot  through  the 
bosom  of  Ranald  McDonald;  again  he  was  Cumcumly 
on  the  fathomless  ocean,  free  as  a  sea-bird  at  home  on  its 
heaving  bosom. 


Ill 
THE   GATE   OPENS 

A)ENSE  fog  hid  the  land  when  Ranald  left  the  ship, 
but  Captain  Edwards  had  given  him  his  bearing 
for  the  nearest  island.  Hoisting  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  and  dipping  her  flag  several  times,  the  ship 
disappeared,  while  Ranald's  white  handkerchief  flag  of 
truce  still  fluttered  from  the  masthead  of  the  "  Little 
Plymouth."  The  wind  was  light,  but  when  he  had  gone 
about  half  the  distance  toward  land  a  reef  and  breakers 
appeared  whitening  the  shore  line.  Changing  his  course, 
Ranald  steered  to  the  south,  passed  several  islands,  and 
fell  in  with  a  herd  of  sea-lions,  whose  bellowing  wok! 
woh!  woh!  like  the  baying  of  deep-mouthed  hounds  rolled 
over  the  waters.  Trying  his  pistols,  Ranald  shot  one, 
then  directly  through  the  herd  steered  for  harbor  in  a 
little  bay,  where  he  landed. 

Ascending  a  neighboring  height  for  a  view  he  found 
the  island  uninhabited.     Below  lay  his  boat,  and  yonder, 


THE    GATE    OPENS  205 

the  whaler,  out  of  sight  save  the  top  of  her  mainmast 
still  pointing  heavenward  out  of  a  distant  fog-bank.  The 
lonely  isle,  the  ceaseless  sullen  dash  of  waves  on  the  beach, 
the  looming  realm  of  dread  Japan  —  all,  all  in  the  reaction 
weighed  like  lead  upon  his  soul.  "  But  the  die  is  cast. 
Even  now,  if  at  the  gangway  of  a  homeward-bound,  I 
would  not  turn  from  my  purpose,"  resolved  Ranald,  scarce 
realizing  that  what  Columbus  had  failed  to  do  he  had 
accomplished  in  the  "  Little  Plymouth."  He  had  reached 
Japan ! 

Unable  to  find  a  suitable  resting-place  on  the  island, 
Ranald  slept  in  the  cuddy  of  his  boat.  Awaking  refreshed 
the  next  morning,  after  a  breakfast  on  beef  and  biscuit 
and  chocolate  he  started  on  an  exploration  of  his  new 
dominion,  a  world  so  far  as  could  be  seen  inhabited  only 
by  innumerable  ducks,  geese,  and  other  waterfowl. 
Covered  with  small  trees  and  bushes,  cane-brake  and 
sward,  the  whole  island  was  picturesquely  dotted  with 
lakelets  and  ponds.  On  it  for  the  next  two  days  he  spent 
a  Robinson  Crusoe  life,  maturing  the  plan  for  invading 
Japan. 

"  For  I  must  allow  sufficient  time  to  elapse  between  the 
departure  of  the  ship  and  my  contact  with  the  Japanese 
to  obviate  the  suspicion  of  my  having  voluntarily  sought 
their  shores,"  he  reasoned.  "  The  vessel  may  have  been 
seen  by  the  natives,  and  a  rigid  inquiry  may  be  made  as 
to  the  time  and  the  manner  of  my  leaving." 

At  the  distance  of  about  ten  miles,  in  a  northerly  direc 
tion,  Ranald  perceived  another  island,  with  a  snow-capped 
mountain  rising  as  if  from  the  centre.  "  I  will  make 
for  that.  But  first  I  must  ascertain  whether  I  can  capsize 
my  boat  and  right  her  again.  Then  I  can  present  myself 
in  distress ;  for,  with  all  their  reputed  cruelty  to  foreign 
ers,  even  Japanese  will  have  some  compassion  on  such 
of  the  unfortunate,  as  storm  or  shipwreck  shall  cast  upon 
their  shores.  Misfortune  is  not  a  passport  in  all  cases, 
but  it  is  in  some,  and  I  shall  try  it  at  the  brazen  gates  of 
Japan." 

Clearing  the  small  harbor  into  deep  water,  Ranald  shook 
out  the  reefs,  and  purposely  capsized  his  craft,  with  sail 


206  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

set.  He  then  cast  adrift  the  back  stays,  unstepped  the 
mast,  making  the  sheet  fast  to  the  painter,  and,  taking 
hold  of  the  centreboard,  righted  and  bailed  her.  The 
only  things  now  left  in  the  boat  were  two  kegs  of  water, 
a  small  keg  of  provisions,  and  his  bed ;  oars,  rudder,  and 
chest  were  afloat.  Recovering  the  chest  and  one  oar  with 
difficulty,  Ranald  let  the  rest  go,  the  rudder  and  the  other 
oar  having  drifted  beyond  reach.  Satisfied  with  the 
result  he  spent  another  night  on  the  island. 

Hoisting  his  flag  early  next  morning,  Ranald  started 
for  the  island  with  the  peak  of  snow.  Again,  when  close 
in  to  leeward,  designedly  he  upset  his  little  craft,  losing 
all  his  bedding,  nearly  all  his  clothing,  the  pistols,  and 
the  bailer.  The  chest  had  been  heedlessly  left  unlocked. 
After  much  work  the  boat  was  righted.  During  this 
time  the  "  Uncas,"  a  whaler,  appearing  within  eight 
miles  of  Ranald,  picked  up  the  "  tiny  rudder,"  which 
gave  rise  to  the  newspaper  surmise  that  he  had  been 
lost  at  sea.  Both  Captain  Edwards  and  the  "  Uncas  " 
reported  thus  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Damon,  a  missionary  at  the 
Sandwich  Islands,  who  published  an  account  of  Ranald's 
adventure  in  "  The  Friend  "  at  Honolulu. 

"  Oh,  that  the  same  unseen  hand  that  conducted  the 
1  Mayflower  '  to  the  Rock  of  Plymouth  might  now  con 
duct  the  '  Young  Plymouth  '  and  preserve  the  life  of  her 
adventurous  commander,"  prayed  Mr.  Damon.  "Who 
does  not  fervently  hope  that  a  successful  issue  may  crown 
the  bold,  daring,  and  hazardous  enterprise  of  Ranald 
McDonald,  an  adventurer  into  the  Japan  Sea?"  This, 
copied  into  the  Oregon  and  Canadian  papers,  reached 
McDonald  of  Montreal. 

Drifting  from  shore,  stepping  his  mast  and  setting  sail, 
Ranald  now  steered  with  the  recovered  oar.  As  if  laugh 
ing  at  such  temerity,  the  shoulder  of  a  huge  green  billow 
lifted  the  frail  craft  and  threw  him  overboard.  With 
the  same  lurch  out  again  went  his  chest  and  biscuits, 
dancing  upon  the  waters.  Abandoning  biscuits  and 
compass,  Ranald  recaptured  the  chest  and  swam  for  the 
boat,  glad  enough  to  find  still  safe  his  precious  books, 
quadrant,  and  writing  materials.  Tacking  toward  land, 


THE    GATE   OPENS  207 

off  and  on  he  stood  all  night,  sleeping  not  a  wink  for  fear 
of  rocks  ahead,  indicated  by  breakers. 

At  dawn  eagerly  he  looked.  As  anticipated,  smoke 
was  rising  from  an  inhabited  shore,  and  fishermen  in 
loose  flapping  gowns  were  launching  a  skiff  and  rowing 
toward  him.  On  their  approach,  raising  the  plug  of  his 
boat  he  let  it  half  fill  with  water.  Nearer,  nearer,  four 
men  were  coming,  now  stopping  to  gaze,  and  now  throw 
ing  out  their  hairy  arms,  palms  up,  and  bowing  to  the 
very  edge  of  the  boat  in  profound  salaams,  stroking  their 
great  beards  and  uttering  guttural  sounds  in  respectful 
salutation. 

"  How  do  you  do?  how  do  you  do?  "  Ranald  beckoned 
with  his  hand.  Timidly  the  strangers  approached;  but 
the  moment  they  touched,  aboard  he  jumped,  attaching 
the  painter  of  his  little  craft  to  theirs  and  signalling  to 
row  ashore. 

As  if  wonder-struck  as  to  who  or  what  this  command 
ing  being  might  be,  though  evidently  unafraid,  still  they 
salaamed  and  continued  to  salaam.  Impatient  of  such 
mummery,  Ranald  himself  seized  a  pair  of  sculls  and 
pulled  about  a  ship's  length.  Immediately  all  fell  to 
work  sending  the  little  bark  like  a  wherry  through  the 
water,  when,  from  sheer  inability  to  keep  stroke  with 
them,  Ranald  gave  up.  At  that  they  too,  with  one 
accord,  dropped  oars,  looking  earnestly  in  his  face  as 
if  asking  further  orders. 

Again  Ranald  pointed  to  the  shore,  directing  them  by 
signs  to  row  thither.  Inquiringly  one  pointed  to  one  side 
of  the  cove  and  another  to  the  other. 

'  To  the  village,  of  course."  Impatiently  Ranald  indi 
cated  the  hamlet  he  had  seen  them  start  from,  at  the  foot 
of  the  mountain. 

As  he  landed,  a  hundred  men,  women,  and  children, 
in  topknots  and  kimonos,  sank  as  had  the  fishermen  in 
low  salaams,  touching  the  beach  with  their  foreheads. 
Running,  two  of  the  boatmen  obtained  a  pair  of  straw 
sandals  from  the  women,  and  putting  them  on  Ranald's 
feet,  which  were  naked,  gently  assisted  him  up  the  steep 
and  rocky  bank. 


208  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

The  way  was  rough,  and,  unaccustomed  to  the  use  of 
sandals,  Ranald  stumbled;  still  they  hurried  him  on. 

"  Stop !  "  sharply  he  demanded.  Instantly,  perceiving 
his  look  and  tone  of  dissatisfaction,  the  islanders  halted, 
rubbing  their  hands  together  as  if  imploring  pardon.  To 
avoid  further  hurting  their  feelings,  Ranald  bent  as  if 
to  arrange  the  sandals;  but  no,  it  could  not  be  allowed. 
Adjusting  the  sandals  themselves,  and  appearing  glad  of 
the  opportunity,  the  rest  of  the  way  they  measured  their 
pace  by  his.  ^ 

On  approaching  the  house,  a  broad-roofed,  one-story 
structure  overshadowing  a  cluster  of  fisher  huts,  a  Japa 
nese  stepped  forth,  with  long  black  hair  gathered  into 
a  topknot  slightly  projecting  over  his  shaven  forehead, 
touching  his  hat.  "  A  priest,"  Ranald  fancied,  from  the 
loose  cotton  gown  and  the  wide  clerical  sleeves.  As  one 
of  authority  the  gowned  individual  spoke,  whereupon 
Ranald's  conductors  led  him  into  the  house,  into  a  room 
with  paper  windows,  to  a  raised  platform,  and  to  the 
place  of  honor  on  still  another  raised  floor  beyond  that. 
Here,  dismissing  the  men,  the  Japanese  gentleman,  Omba 
Shegune,  himself  spread  the  mats  and  stirred  the  fire. 

"  Put  off  your  sandals,"  he  indicated  by  a  shake  of  the 
foot.  Then,  for  the  first  time,  Ranald  perceived  that  the 
gentleman  had  none  on.  Placing  the  sandals  in  a  par 
ticular  spot  outside,  and  intimating  that  they  would 
always  be  found  there,  he  offered  a  gown,  advising  the 
removal  of  wet  clothes,  and  went  out  to  summon  a  boy 
attendant. 

Ranald  needed  no  second  invitation  to  divest  himself 
of  his  sodden  sailor  dress  and  don  the  garments  of  a 
Japanese,  even  to  the  mitten-stockings  knit  with  a  toe  for 
fastening  sandals.  Books  were  in  the  room,  and  with 
that  love  of  reading  so  long  inculcated  by  his  school  life, 
Ranald  was  at  them,  however  weary  from  lack  of  food 
and  loss  of  sleep.  "  Ah !  this  must  be  an  almanac." 
Flipping  over  the  leaves,  on  the  last  page  he  saw  a  draw 
ing  of  a  mariner's  compass,  -  "  Hah !  with  twelve  points, 
and  a  needle  heading  to  the  south ! " 

But  Musko,  the  boy,  was  already  at  hand,  bowing  till 


AMONG   THE   AINU  209 

his  finger-tips  touched  his  toes.  "  Sit  and  eat,"  he  sig 
nalled.  At  their  very  feet  the  feast  was  spread,  fra 
grant  hot  tea,  boiled  rice  and  fish,  preserved  ginger  and 
pickles,  on  tiny  tables  in  Japanned  trays  and  bowls. 
Several  times  during  the  meal  Omba,  his  host,  offered 
a  long-necked  China  bottle:  "  Grogyes  t  grogyes?" 

Ranald  smelt.  It  did  seem  like  grog,  whiskey  in  fact. 
He  shook  his  head.  On  inquiry  he  discovered  it  was 
sake,  a  Japanese  distillation  from  rice,  and  that  the  crew 
of  a  wrecked  whaler,  —  the  "  George  Howe,"  according 
to  Omba,  —  haying  been  offered  drink,  had  answered, 
"Grog?  —  yes,  fetch  it  on!"  Hence  had  arisen  the 
word  "  grogyes  "  among  the  imitative  Japanese.  Ranald, 
too,  remembered  that  at  Hong  Kong  he  had  heard  that 
one  of  the  "  George  Howe's  "  crew  had  been  killed  in 
Japan  for  attempting  to  escape  when  a  captive.  But  he 
did  not  fear. 

After  breakfast  the  shipwrecked  whaler  took  a  short 
walk  out  of  doors,  unattended.  "The  only  walk  I  ever 
took  alone  in  Japan,"  he  said  long  after.  Returning,  his 
kind  host  had  prepared  a  bed  and  mosquito  bar  on  the 
floor.  Glad  to  escape,  the  femininity  of  walking  around 
the  house  in  a  gown,  Ranald  threw  himself  on  the  mats 
and  slept,  as  in  childhood  he  had  slept  in  his  grandfather's 
lodge  four  thousand  miles  to  the  east.  Meanwhile  the 
fishermen  were  bringing  up  the  sail,  anchor,  kegs,  and 
chest  of  the  "  Little  Plymouth,"  and  at  his  request  the  wet 
sailor  clothes  were  washed  in  fresh  water  and  dried. 


IV 

AMONG  THE   AINU 

HAVE  I  fallen  into  a  nest  of  Tartar  pirates?" 
Ranald  awoke  with  a  start,  recalling  his  bearded 
rescuers  of  the  morning.     Their  half  uncovered 
hairy  bodies  and  long  uncombed  masses  of  hair,  uncouth 
and  wild,  were  not  at  all  like  those  of  the  delicate  Ewa, 

14 


210  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Kioko,  and  Oto  he  had  known  at  Vancouver.  "  And  yet 
they  were  gentle  and  did  me  no  harm.  I  must  ever  re 
member  their  Samaritan  charity  toward  me.  But  why 
did  they  so  honor,  and  even  pay  obeisance  to  me,  as  to  a 
king  or  noble  ?  " 

The  problem  was  too  great,  and  again  Ranald  slept,  to 
awaken  at  the  call  of  Omba  Shegune  on  the  following 
morning.  Two  samurai  overseers  of  the  Ainu  had  arrived 
to  view  the  stranger  and  to  take  an  inventory  of  his  be 
longings.  Everything  about  Ranald  seemed  to  excite 
their  curiosity,  especially  his  books  and  letters.  Kehenza, 
an  aged  Japanese,  and  Kemon,  his  associate,  looked  in 
tently  at  every  article,  talking  and  wondering.  Last  of 
all,  the  kegs  of  provisions  were  opened.  "  Eat  ?  "  Kemon 
gestured.  "  Yes,"  Ranald  nodded.  Religious  abstainers 
from  meat,  Kehenza  and  Kemon,  even  Omba  Shegune 
himself,  were  horror-stricken  at  finding  beef  and  pork. 
After  protracted  consultation  two  pieces  were  taken  out 
with  a  long  fork  at  arm's  length  and  examined  amid 
many  a  "  Naru  hodo!  " 

With  almost  equal  interest  observing  their  behavior, 
Ranald  spent  the  afternoon  writing  down  their  quick, 
short,  sharp  ejaculations  on  his  slate.  This,  too,  amused 
the  onlookers,  gathering  to  gaze  and  exchange  glances. 
Presently  each,  handing  Ranald  a  stick  of  preserved 
ginger,  spoke  a  word  that  he  quickly  caught,  — 
"  Sayonara!  "  ("  Farewell !  ")  —  and  went  out. 

That  evening  he  reconnoitred  the  outbuildings,  fol 
lowed  and  watched  ever  by  Tankaro,  a  second  guardian, 
who  studied  his  every  word  and  look  and  move  with  all- 
devouring  eye.  More  closely  Ranald  noted  the  wide 
sweep  of  the  heavy-tiled  roof  of  his  abode,  gracefully 
curving  upwards,  over  a  clustering  brood  of  fragile 
houses. 

"  What?  "  he  asked,  by  a  gesture. 

"  A  temple,  a  house  of  God,"  the  upraised  hands  of 
Tankaro  replied.  That  he  was  lodged  in  a  temple  had  not 
occurred  to  Ranald.  But  an  altar  he  had  noted,  like  a 
small  bookcase  against  the  wall,  where  night  and  morning 
Tankaro  knelt,  clapped  his  hands,  and  with  face  upturned 


wimam 


"  Tankaro  cautiously  rose  and  peered  over  the  friendly  grass/' 


AMONG   THE   AINU  211 

assumed  the  look  and  attitude  of  devotion.  Every  night 
and  every  morning  Ranald  watched  Tankaro  placing  his 
cup  of  sake  on  the  shrine,  and  ringing  a  bell  to  attract 
the  attention  of  his  deity. 

By  degrees  intimacy  sprang  up  with  Tankaro;  his 
desire  to  learn  English  seemed  not  less  than  that  of  Ran 
ald's  for  Japanese.  Pointing  to  objects,  with  eye  and 
mouth  and  ear  open  and  intent,  he  asked  the  name,  re 
peating  the  word  over  and  over  with  avidity,  seeming 
deeply  to  impress  it  upon  the  tablets  of  his  memory. 

"  And  now  give  me  the  Japanese,"  always  Ranald 
insisted. 

Cutting  a  pen  from  a  crow  quill,  —  to  the  surprise  of 
all,  for  many  came  to  watch  him,  —  Ranald  commenced 
a  phonographic  vocabulary  of  words  and  Japanese  collo 
quial  expressions  with  English  equivalents.  Whipping 
out  his  little  book  roll  of  mulberry-bark  paper,  Tankaro 
too  dashed  away  with  his  writing-brush  from  top  to 
bottom,  from  right  to  left.  A  born  vocabulist,  Tankaro 
soon  surpassed  Ranald's  little  lexicon.  But  the  overseers, 
when  they  noticed,  shook  their  doubting  heads.  "  No, 
no,  no,  this  may  not  be  according  to  the  law."  Never 
theless,  in  secret  Ranald  endeavored  to  keep  up  his  study 
of  the  language. 

"  I  am  going  to  Soya,  the  nearest  military  station,  to 
report  you,"  Kehenza  gave  him  to  understand  on  the 
third  day,  fearing  they  might  be  deemed  disloyal  in  thus 
harboring  a  foreigner.  Kneeling  at  the  altar,  the  old 
man  rang  the  bell,  clapped  his  hands,  and  remained  for 
some  time  in  the  attitude  of  deep  prayer ;  then  went  out, 
accompanied  by  other  gentlemen  who  had  come  to  inspect 
the  stranger  from  the  Black  Ship. 

"  Corne,  Kehenza  is  gone,  let  us  go,"  gestured  Tankaro, 
plucking  Ranald  by  the  sleeve  and  leading  him  out  into 
a  field  of  long  coarse  grass  near  the  seashore,  some  dis 
tance  from  the  village.  Squatting  down  with  an  air  of 
mystery,  he  invited  Ranald  to  do  the  same.  Pulling  at 
a  place  of  concealment  in  his  dress,  Tankaro  brought 
forth  a  chart  of  Japan.  Again  cautiously  rising  and 
peering  a  little  over  the  friendly  grass,  "  Show  me,"  he 


212  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

said,  "  where  your  ship  was  when  you  left  her  or  last 
saw  her." 

Ranald  examined  the  map,  colored  and  apparently  well 
executed,  but  lacking  lines  of  latitude  and  longitude. 
Easily  now  he  could  point  to  the  spot;  he  had  landed 
at  Timoshee,  on  the  extreme  northern  coast  of  the  Island 
of  Yesso,  the  home  of  the  Ainu,  the  aboriginal  race  of 
Japan. 

"  And  this  bay  is  Nootska,"  said  Tankaro.  "  Were 
you  ever  at  the  southern  ports  of  Japan?" 

"  No."  Then  more  carefully  Ranald  examined  the 
map,  fuller  and  more  elaborate  than  any  he  had  ever 
seen.  Tankaro  pointed  out  how  distances  were  indicated 
by  marks  of  a  day's  journey  from  the  great  bridge  of 
Yedo  on  the  Island  of  Nippon,  the  theoretical  and  civic 
centre  of  the  country.  In  the  southwest  of  Yesso  Tan 
karo  pointed  out  the  city  and  port  of  Matsumai,  where 
dwelt  the  Japanese  Governor,  or  Viceroy,  of  the  Island. 

Little  realized  Ranald  that  the  exhibition  of  a  map  of 
Japan  to  a  foreigner  was  a  crime  in  the  Sunrise  King 
dom,  and  that  to  give  one  was  regarded  as  the  deed  of 
a  traitor.  Once  such  a  map  given  to  a  physician  of  the 
Dutch  at  Deshima  resulted  in  his  banishment  as  a  Rus 
sian  spy,  and  the  offender  was  crucified.  A  number  of 
Japanese  lost  their  lives  in  that  affair.  Again  nervously 
peering  above  the  grass  Tankaro  recovered  the  treasure 
and  hid  it  in  his  bosom.  But  Japan  was  filled  with 
whisperers  and  thinkers  and  map-makers  like  Tankaro. 
The  very  prohibition  made  them  more  avid.  Hundreds 
of  spirits  were  as  eager  to  know  of  their  Eastern  neigh 
bor  as  that  neighbor  was  to  know  of  Japan.  They,  too, 
were  looking  out  on  the  Pacific,  watching  the  black  ships 
of  the  whale  fleets  going  by,  asking  whence  and  whither. 
Secretly  they  were  studying.  Eagerly  a  nation  was 
waiting  the  dawn. 

On  the  tenth  day  of  his  sojourn,  while  standing  at  the 
window  of  his  headquarters,  two  junks  passed  Nootska 
Cove,  and  sailing  around  toward  Tootoomari  on  the 
opposite  side,  anchored  near  the  village.  In  the  evening 
the  officers  came  over  to  Nootska,  like  true  Jacks  ashore, 


AMONG   THE   AINU  213 

jolly,  and  with  presents  of  sweetmeats  for  Ranald.  All 
night  in  the  next  room  Ranald  heard  them  drinking  sake, 
uproarious  in  their  revelry. 

"  Keep  within  doors,"  ordered  Omba  Shegune  on  the 
morrow.  Mats  were  hung  before  his  windows  and  the 
room  was  darkened. 

"Is  this  imprisonment?"  soliloquized  Ranald.  "Ah, 
then  are  my  present  and  future  dark  indeed !  " 

Then  came  the  officers  of  the  junks,  and  soldiers,  and 
a  court  of  investigation  convened  on  the  highest  platform 
of  the  temple.  Thrusting  their  hands  under  their  aprons 
and  opening  wide  their  narrow  eyes,  they  stared  at  him, 
on  their  knees.  Ranald,  standing,  inclined  his  head.  As 
he  could  not  sit  cross-legged,  Japanese  fashion,  Kemon 
pointed  to  a  stool  for  his  convenience,  and  Ranald  seated 
himself. 

"  What  is  your  name?  Where  is  your  ship?  "  Other 
inquiries  followed,  to  which  Ranald  answered  as  he  had 
before  to  Tankaro  and  Omba :  "  The  Captain  and  I  did 
not  agree.  I  left  the  ship,  and  it  started  home  to 
America." 

Again  Ranald's  stores  were  minutely  examined  and 
inventoried,  and  a  sketch  was  made  of  every  article  of 
interest,  —  his  quadrant,  his  boat,  kegs,  and  anchor. 
Everything  was  measured,  even  the  thickness  of  the 
sides  of  the  chest.  Most  particularly  his  woollens  were 
scrutinized,  —  sheep  were  unknown  in  Japan,  —  and  the 
height  and  dimensions  of  his  person  were  taken.  Five 
feet  eight  inches,  broad-shouldered,  full-chested,  stout, 
and  muscular,  Ranald  McDonald  was  something  of  a 
giant  among  the  diminutive  Japanese. 

The  examination  ended,  and  his  belongings  were  shut 
and  sealed  with  the  government  stamp  of  Japan,  to  be 
opened  only  by  Omba  Shegune  in  the  presence  of  wit 
nesses.  Ranald  was  marched  between  officers  and  double 
lines  of  Ainu  around  the  cove  to  the  village  of  Tootoo- 
mari.  His  cotton  gown,  too  short  by  several  inches,  was 
a  poor  makeshift  for  a  dress  of  ceremony.  One  carried 
his  pipe,  another  his  tobacco-pouch,  and  others  still  his 
mat  and  brazier,  with  live  coals  for  smoking. 


214  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  Are  you  tired  ?  "  ever  and  anon  solicited  the  Japanese. 
And  always,  "  No,"  Ranald  assured  them.  Nevertheless, 
about  two  miles  from  the  starting-point  mats  were  spread, 
pipes  were  lit,  and  precisely  as  in  old  Indian  days  on  the 
Columbia  the  friendly  calumet  gave  forth  its  incense  of 
peace  and  soothing  solace.  All  Ranald's  fears  were  fled, 
-  too  well  he  knew  the  language  of  the  pipe. 

At  Tootoomari,  five  miles  from  Nootska,  curtains  of 
black  and  blue,  the  insignia  of  feudal  families,  were 
stretched  along  each  side  of  the  line  of  march. 

"  If  intended  for  concealment  from  my  view,"  con 
jectured  Ranald,  "  they  certainly  do  not  answer  the  pur 
pose."  Fully  a  head  higher,  he  could  look  over  and  see 
Ainu  houses  very  like  Cumcumly's  Oregon  lodge,  even 
to  the  mats  on  the  floor,  the  fire  in  the  centre  smoking 
without  a  chimney,  and  the  raised  sleeping-benches 
flanking  the  inner  walls. 

Up  a  long  narrow  veranda  gleaming  with  polished 
planks,  again  Ranald  was  conducted  into  a  temple  and 
left  with  guards,  -  -  Tankaro  and  Meyanzima,  a  young 
man  about  twenty  years  of  age.  Here,  at  Tootoomari, 
thirty  days  Ranald  remained,  well  fed,  kindly  attended, 
and  supplied  with  all  conveniences,  including  the  luxuries 
of  tea  and  tobacco.  Three  times  only  did  he  leave  his 
quarters  or  cage,  —  there  were  gratings  at  the  windows, 

—  and  then  only  to  take  baths  in  the  house.     But  every 
where  attendants  were  flitting  for  service  or  for  spying, 

—  one  for  his  table,  another  for  his  wardrobe,  one  to 
fetch  coal  for  his  fire  and  to  light  his  pipe,  and  always 
at  hand  the  faithful  little  Musko,  now  with  a  handful  of 
charcoal,  preparing  a  warm  bath  for  his  feet,  anon,  as 
major-domo,  leading  the  way  to  a  hot  tub  and  a  cold 
douche  in  the  anteroom.     Never  in  his  life  had  Ranald 
been  so  well  attended,  never  so  clean. 

It  was  a  beautiful  day  in  the  fore  part  of  August  when 
two  junks  from  Soya  arrived  expressly  for  the  distin 
guished  stranger,  —  one  for  him  and  his  attendants,  the 
other  entirely  for  his  baggage,  including  the  "  Little 
Plymouth,"  that  was  by  no  means  allowed  to  touch  the 
water. 


AMONG   THE   AINU  215 

Coming  out  of  the  house  to  start,  Ranald  was  sur 
prised  to  see  his  friend  Kemon,  the  samurai,  kneeling 
on  a  mat  by  the  door. 

"  Sayonara!  "  Cheerfully  Ranald  advanced  to  give  his 
hand  with  a  smile.  Tears  leaped  to  the  eyes  of  Kemon 
as  he  arose,  and  in  turn  bade  "  Sayonara!  "  then,  leading 
the  way  with  Kehenza,  headed  the  procession  of  soldiers 
and  sword-bearers  down  from  the  temple  to  the  water. 

"  Shita  ni  ro!  "  ("  Down  on  your  faces!  ") 

The  road  was  lined  with  Ainu  men,  and  women  with 
babies  on  their  backs,  sinking  to  the  earth  at  the  wave 
of  Kehenza's  official  fan  and  command,  now  fierce,  now 
perfunctory,  —  "  Shita  ni  ro!  "  For  well  the  Ainu  knew 
if  he  did  not  duck  his  head  it  would  be  whipped  off  by 
the  sword  in  the  hand  of  the  samurai.  Merely  as  an 
interested  spectator,  scarce  realizing  that  he  himself  was 
the  cause  of  all  this  commotion,  Ranald  watched  Kehenza, 
in  his  frock  of  faded  silk,  directing  the  crews  and  dis 
persing  the  curious  crowds  on  the  shore,  peering,  peering 
ever  slant-eyed  at  the  stranger. 

"Hyaku!"  urged  Kehenza.  Ranald  smiled.  Thus 
he  had  often  heard  Indians  setting  out  in  their  canoes,  — 
"Hyac!"  ("Hurry!") 

"  Yos  in  yo!  yos  in  yo!  "  ("I  see  you !  I  see  you !  "). 
began  the  quick,  hoarse  chant  of  the  scullers,  while  the 
rich  voices  of  the  forward  rowers  rang  out,  not  unlike 
those  of  the  Iroquois  voyageurs  ^of  Ranald's  old  Indian 
boyhood.  How  far  away  those 'days  seemed  now,  and 
yet  all  about  were  reminders,  as  if  those  beloved  Indian 
companions  had  suddenly  become  refined  and  civilized. 
Even  the  topknots  on  their  heads  suggested  the  Haidas 
who  used  to  come  chanting  thus  down  to  his  father's 
fort  on  the  Eraser. 

Entering  the  Bay  of  Soya  that  night,  few  boats  were 
discernible,  but  to  such  as  were  the  officers  pointed,  — 
"American  ship?"  "American  ship?"  But  no  Stars 
and  Stripes  could  be  seen,  and  Ranald  shook  his  head, 
"  No,  no."  And  ever  close  to  Ranald's  side,  eager  in 
terpreters  and  interrogators,  sat  Tankaro  and  Meyan- 
zima,  with  eyes  never  seeming  to  leave  the  stranger's 


216  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

face,  as  if  they  sought  to  read  his  inmost  thought.  And 
sometimes  Ranald  scanned  them,  wondering  at  their 
resemblance  to  the  tribes  of  Northwest  America. 

Boats  manned  by  men  and  women  were  towing  them 
in,  when  an  officer  in  silk  with  two  swords  at  his  girdle 
stepped  into  the  junk  and  smiled  upon  Ranald. 

"  Sick  ?  "  With  hand  at  his  head  he  was  bowing  very 
low. 

Ranald's  heart  gave  a  jump  at  the  sound  of  an  English 
word.  It  was  Omba  Shegune,  his  host  in  those  first  days 
at  Timoshee,  ever  picking  up  sailor  talk,  who  had  gone 
ahead  to  arrange  his  reception,  and  now,  apparently,  was 
glad  to  greet  again  his  shipwrecked  guest. 

"  No ;  perfectly  well,  I  thank  you,"  with  smiling 
obeisance  Ranald  assured  him. 

Arranging  the  procession  of  soldiers  in  black  silk 
mantles,  two  sworded  samurai  or  knights  in  armor, 
escorting  the  prisoner,  up  through  long  curtained  streets 
between  rows  of  Ainu,  kneeling  and  bending  with  ac 
customed  civility,  Omba  conducted  him  to  a  newly  built 
cage  at  the  temple. 

"Are  you  satisfied?"  inquired  the  officers  through 
Tankaro. 

Ranald  glanced  at  the  clean  enclosure,  covered  with 
mats,  and  at  the  windows. 

"  Tell  them  a  prison  is  not  good  for  me,  Tankaro. 
I  will  not  exchange  compliments  with  any  one  with  bars 
and  gratings  between  us." 

"  Seat  yourself,  seat  yourself,"  gestured  the  officers, 
proffering  a  bench.  "  Do  you  suffer  from  the  heat?  If 
you  do,  we  will  make  alterations  to  suit  you." 

"  Tankaro,  tell  them  I  want  room  to  walk." 

"  Ah,  two  rooms."  With  profound  bows  and  gestures 
the  panels  were  slid  apart. 

"  Tell  them  I  need  more  air,  Tankaro." 

"  Ah !  "  with  low-bowed  head  Tankaro  listened  as  if 
studying  and  reporting  every  wish  and  request.  '  They 
say  they  will  have  the  windows  opened  to-morrow 
evening." 

"  To-morrow !  "      Ranald    threw   back   his   head   and 


AMONG   THE   AINU  217 

laughed  aloud,  whereat  all  laughed  with  him,  believing 
him  pleased.  For  within  the  rigid  law  that  permitted 
no  foreigner  on  the  sacred  soil  of  Japan  were  they  not 
endeavoring  to  make  his  restraint  as  hospitable  as 
possible  ? 

Here  on  the  morrow  again  Ranald's  belongings  were 
scrutinized,  —  his  quadrant,  a  bit  of  India-rubber,  and 
the  slate  exciting  especial  curiosity.  "  What  ?  what  ?  " 
the  Governor  commanding  at  Soya  picked  it  up.  Politely 
Ranald  took  the  pencil  and  scribbled  his  name. 

"  Naru  hodo,  sonotore!"  ("Oh,  ah,  indeed!")  mur 
mured  the  Governor,  trying  the  pencil  himself.  "  And 
this,  do  you  not  use  this  to  measure  our  country?"  he 
had  picked  up  the  quadrant.  Gravely  Ranald  shook  his 
head,  but  the  Governor  laughed. 

"  He  cackles  like  a  Shanghai  or  a  Flathead  Indian," 
thought  Ranald,  as  the  Governor  departed  with  a 
European  bow. 

Then  came  the  military  judge,  or  justice,  with  Japa 
nese  salaams,  sitting  long  in  utter  silence,  sharing  a 
social  smoke,  complacently  using  his  fan,  and  studying 
the  mysterious  castaway.  A  prisoner,  and  yet  a  guest, 
fifteen  days  Ranald  remained  at  Soya,  visited  daily  by 
feudal  knights  from  the  castle  collecting  in  his  cage  to 
hear  of  the  wonders  of  the  outer  world.  And  he,  too, 
incidentally  learned  of  Japan. 

"  There  are  cannon  at  Soya,"  they  told  him,  "  live 
cannon." 

"  Do  not  drink  cold  water,"  the  knights  cautioned, 
bringing  tea  for  his  use.  Spry  little  Musko,  an  intelli 
gent  boy,  was  ever  dancing  attendance  with  a  pot  of  the 
steaming  beverage.  Even  the  soldiers,  kind  souls,  sent 
him  parched  rice  boiled  in  water,  and  presents  of  sweet 
meats.  Almost  uncommon  anxiety  was  expressed  for  his 
health,  no  reason  for  which  Ranald  could  surmise,  unless 
there  was  sickness  in  the  country.  Standing  at  a  win 
dow  one  day,  Meyanzima  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 
Turning,  Ranald  saw  a  stranger  with  shaved  head,  dressed 
in  silk.  "  Doctor,"  Meyanzima  spoke  in  English. 

About   to   give   the    profound    Japanese    salaam,    the 


218  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

doctor  hesitated,  then  noticing  that  Ranald  stood,  sank 
only  to  his  knees  with  a  formal  bow. 

With  the  customary  gift  of  confectionery,  "  Where 
did  you  come  from?"  the  doctor  inquired.  "What  is 
your  name,  and  age?"  And  through  Meyanzima 
Ranald  replied,  "  From  America.  Ranald  McDonald. 
Twenty-four  years  of  age." 

"Are  you  sick?" 

"  No." 

But  the  pulse  must  be  felt,  and,  as  he  would  have 
done  at  home,  Ranald  put  out  his  tongue.  Springing 
back  as  if  hit,  surprise,  fear,  and  inquiry  depicted  upon 
his  features,  the  doctor  looked  astonished.  Equally 
surprised,  Ranald  closed  his  mouth. 

And  still  he  lingered,  fanning  leisurely  and  quizzing 
with  the  officers.  "  Are  America,  England,  and  France 
larger  than  Yesso?" 

Ranald  laughed,  "  Oh,  much  larger  " ;  he  stretched 
his  arms. 

"  I  cannot  believe  it,"  said  one.  "  But  in  any  case 
Japan  is  larger." 

'  You  are  going  away  in  a  few  days,"  the  officers  in 
formed  him,  "  and  we  are  praying  for  prosperous  winds." 
Ah,  much  petitioning  had  Japan  for  prosperous  winds, 
when  to  be  swept  away  was  eternal  exile.  Every  port  had 
its  mariner's  shrine  hung  with  votive  offerings  of  cut-off 
queues,  beseeching  the  saints  for  safety  on  the  sea. 

'  Yes,"  the  Governor  assured  him  in  his  call  that 
afternoon,  "  I  have  provided  a  junk.  You  will  leave 
soon  if  the  wind  is  fair." 

Then  Tankaro  came.  "  I  must  return  to  Nootska,  but 
Omba  Shegune  will  be  with  you,  and  a  new  interpreter 
appointed  because  he  was  keeper  of  the  captain  and 
crew  of  the  '  George  Howe/  and  may  know  some 
English." 

"  But  Musko,  cannot  the  boy  stay  with  me?  "  pleaded 
Ranald,  for  the  little  fellow  had  been  his  constant  and 
faithful  attendant  from  that  first  day  at  Timoshee,  skip 
ping  up  ever  with  a  fresh  coal  on  the  brazier  to  light 
his  pipe,  and  arranging  his  bath  and  wardrobe. 


AMONG   THE   AINU  219 

"  Omba  will  ask  permission  of  the  Governor,"  an 
swered  Tankaro,  "  but  I  --  I,"  his  voice  quivered,  "  shall 
never  see  you  again."  Pressing  Ranald's  hand,  he  too, 
with  uncontrollable  tears,  whispered,  "  If  we  must  part, 
we  must.  Sayonara!"  But  the  boy  Musko  was  permitted 
to  go  as  far  as  Matsumai. 

With  the  doctor  and  a  throng  of  officers  and  friends, 
-  for  everywhere  Ranald  made  friends,  —  he  was  led 
down  to  the  junk  at  the  jetty,  through  curtained  streets 
as  before,  along  the  line  of  march.  Some  of  the  curtains 
this  time  were  pure  white,  with  the  coat-of-arms  of  the 
Prince  of  Matsumai  and  Yesso,  and  some  were  painted 
with  portholes  in  black.  And  again  he  was  told,  "  There 
are  cannon  in  Soya,  —  live  cannon !  "  But  he  saw  none. 

The  captain  of  the  junk,  too,  came  to  see  his  passenger. 

'  You  will  be  pleased  with  your  cabin,  and  be  com 
fortable.  Yes,  I  have  learned  how  you  were  discommoded 
in  the  other." 

The  junk  now  lay  in  the  harbor,  covered  with  white 
curtains  and  painted  with  portholes  representing  the  grin 
of  war.  On  the  quarter-deck,  like  banners  along  the 
guards,  a  forest  of  spears  with  steel  heads  and  shining 
shafts  glittered  in  the  sun,  and,  strangest  of  all,  sus 
pended  from  the  high  projecting  prow  an  enormous 
swab,  apparently  of  hair  or  fibre,  almost  swept  the 
water.  That  tasselled  emblem,  swinging,  swaying,  and 
dipping,  black  and  large  as  a  tar-barrel,  started  the 
springs  of  wild  conjecture.  "  What  can  it  be?  "  thought 
Ranald.  But  to  ask,  he  knew  from  experience,  would 
be  useless;  while  endeavoring  to  find  out  as  much  as 
possible  from  him,  the  Japanese  were  ever  reluctant  to 
disclose  any  secret  of  their  own  country  or  customs. 

Omba  Shegune,  who  on  his  first  landing  had  wel 
comed  Ranald  to  Japan,  was  now  his  guard,  and  to 
gether  on  the  junk  all  partook  of  refreshments  in 
compliment  to  such  as  were  to  return  to  shore. 

"  Sayonara!  "  "Sayonara!"  Repeatedly  each  testi 
fied  regret  at  Ranald's  departure,  wishing  him  "  fair 
winds  to  Matsumai." 


220  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 


AT   MATSUMAI   CASTLE 

IT  was  a  lubberly  sort  of  Summer  voyage  that  Ranald 
made  from  Soya  to  Matsumai,  in  a  slow-sailing  junk 
laden  with  dried  and  salted  fish  and  kelp,  every 
timber  squeaking  and  creaking  in  the  slightest  sea.  From 
point  to  point  the  course  was  kept,  and  bays  were  crossed, 
so  large  and  deep  that  land  was  often  out  of  sight  for 
ten  or  twelve  hours  at  a  time.  On  approaching  the  open 
roadstead  of  Matsumai  (now  Fukuyama),  on  the  fif 
teenth  day,  eagerly  Ranald  scanned  this  provincial  Japa 
nese  capital,  with  the  castle  of  the  claimio,  or  lord  of 
Matsumai,  on  an  eminence  overlooking  the  town.  Out 
side  the  castle  wall  clusters  of  Buddhist  temples  caught 
his  eye,  when,  suddenly,  Ranald  was  summoned  to  his 
cabin. 

"  Remain  below,"  cautioned  Omba  Shegune,  sliding 
shut  the  door  with  a  click,  cramping  him  in  a  close 
compartment  at  one  side  of  the  vessel. 

Already  the  junk  had  been  dressed  out  with  flags  and 
the  government  pennon,  and  the  lances  of  officers  glit 
tered  at  intervals  around  the  poop.  Fishermen  outside 
the  port  were  stopping  to  gaze  with  surprise  at  the  war 
like  dress  of  the  passing  vessel.  "  What  has  happened? 
What  has  happened  ?  "  they  were  signalling  one  another, 
and  then,  down  below,  Ranald  could  hear  the  flapping 
of  the  sail  and  the  swish  of  boats  moving. 

"  They  have  come  to  tow  our  junk  into  the  harbor," 
said  Musko,  the  boy.  Ranald  heard  the  voices  of  people, 
and  through  a  chink  in  the  partition  could  see  strange 
sailors  and  one  of  the  officers  going  ashore,  "  To  report 
our  arrival  to  the  authorities,"  said  Musko. 

Soon  boats  and  boats  were  coming,  full  of  Japanese 
officers;  mats  were  spread  on  the  steps  and  all  over  the 


AT    MATSUMAI    CASTLE  221 

cabin.  Then,  save  the  swish  of  water,  all  was  silent; 
not  a  whisper  could  be  heard  as  the  august  officials  came 
in  and  seated  themselves,  and  Ranald,  behind  his  parti 
tion,  still  peering,  moved  back,  as  two  men  came  toward 
him  to  open,  as  he  supposed,  a  door.  But  no,  the  whole 
partition  was  removed,  and  he  found  himself  at  once  in 
their  presence.  So  dramatic  an  exhibition  annoyed 
Ranald,  but  rising  to  one  knee  with  as  much  dignity  as 
he  could  command  and  waving  his  hand  with  the  grace 
of  a  Canadian  voyageur,  he  bowed  low  to  the  assembled 
company.  No  salutation  came  back,  not  a  muscle 
moved  in  the  faces  before  him,  but  a  certain  brightening 
of  the  eye,  a  certain  sudden,  fixed,  intent  interest  re 
vealed  that  his  courtesy  had  struck  home.  As  plain  as 
words  the  look  said,  "  Who  is  this  gentleman,  tinted 
like  ourselves,  who  has  thus  fallen  upon  our  sacred 
shores?"  For  not  even  the  Indian  thinks  more  of  eti 
quette  and  ceremony  than  the  Japanese. 

"Nippongin!"  ("  Japanese!  ")  was  the  instant  excla 
mation  of  the  chief  officer  when  his  eye  fell  upon  the 
Indian-featured  Ranald  McDonald.  The  tone  was  not 
unkind,  .nor  disrespectful;  but  as  the  nobleman  whose 
plump  body,  healthy  countenance,  and  large  protruding 
eyes,  reminding  Ranald  of  a  high-caste  Chinook,  con 
tinued  to  gaze  at  him,  so  he,  in  turn,  fixed  his  attention 
upon  this  evident  leader,  whose  wide  silken  trousers  of 
flowery  pattern  were  gathered  with  garters  below  the 
knees,  and  the  bottoms  inserted  in  the  tops  of  his 
white  linen  stockings.  Upon  his  mantle  of  black  silk 
was  engraved  the  coat-of-arms  of  the  principality  of 
Matsumai. 

After  a  period  of  silent  regard  the  chief  officer  turned 
and  nodded  in  the  direction  of  one  of  the  assemblage,  - 
"  Nagasaki.  Go  away.  Tajo."  From  which  Ranald 
inferred  that  the  official  thus  addressed  was  to  take  him 
to  Nagasaki.  At, this,  sliding  along  on  the  mat  on  his 
knees,  one  took  a  position  alongside  of  Ranald.  By  now 
and  then  a  word,  and  by  signs,  he  explained,  "  Carpenter, 
—  ship,  go  away,  Nagasaki." 

"  You  will  repair  a  ship  to  take  me  to  Nagasaki  ?  " 


222  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

inquired  Ranald.  "  Why  all  that  trouble  ?  Why  not 
allow  me  to  remain  among  you?"  Anxious  to  know 
what  the  chief  officer  would  say,  Ranald  motioned  the 
interpreter  to  tell  him  this. 

Only  a  loud  and  good-natured  laugh  was  the  answer. 
"  No,  no,  Nagasaki.  Go  away." 

Assuring  him,  more  by  signs  than  by  words,  that  a 
house  should  be  prepared  for  his  entertainment,  they 
closed  the  sliding  door,  and  the  officers  of  Matsumai 
departed.  It  was  a  sultry  September  day,  not  a  breeze 
stirred  in  the  close  compartment,  until  Ranald  complained, 
and  the  doors  were  again  opened  for  the  admission  of 
air.  Whiling  away  his  time,  pacing  the  cabin,  smoking 
his  Japanese  pipe  and  tobacco,  talking  to  Musko  and 
sipping  tea,  Ranald  wondered  about  the  next  step  in  this 
singular  programme.  And  ever  at  his  master's  side,  with 
brazier  or  with  cup,  trotted  eager  little  Musko. 

As  evening  drew  on,  Omba  and  other  officers  of  the 
junk  appeared  in  full  dress  and  signalled,  "  The  boats 
are  ready  to  take  us  ashore." 

At  the  gangway  Ranald  looked  out  on  myriads  of 
reddish  white  lights  of  fishermen  twinkling  on  -the  sea. 
The  harbor  was  literally  covered  with  fleets  of  square- 
sailed  junks  and  sampans,  thousands,  flying  innumerable 
flags  and  lanterns  hung  to  their  very  mast-heads.  It 
was  a  brilliant  scene.  At  his  feet  was  a  boat.  Into  the 
centre  of  this  boat  spread  with  clean  mats  Omba  led 
Ranald,  and  about  him  six  officers  seated  themselves 
in  a  circle,  all  in  wide,  loose  dresses,  big  sleeves,  and 
many-colored  gay  trousers,  each  with  a  couple  of  swords 
at  the  girdle,  and  hair  tied  up  in  a  knot  over  a  shaven 
spot  in  front.  Extricating  themselves  gradually  from 
the  sea  of  shipping,  at  length  all  landed  in  safety  on 
shore,  where  a  double  line  of  soldiers  were  drawn  up 
for  escort. 

Apparently  the  whole  of  Matsumai,  each  individual 
citizen  bearing  a  lantern,  was  crowding  to  stare  at  the 
ijin,  the  foreigner  from  the  Black  Ship,  as  at  a  wild 
beast,  while  Omba  led  Ranald  to  a  sedan  chair  or  palan 
quin,  the  norimon  of  the  Japanese.  Hastily  he  made  his 


AT    MATSUMAI    CASTLE  223 

retreat  from  that  battery  of  ten  thousand  eyes  and  lan 
terns,  the  curtains  were  drawn,  the  palanquin  was  lashed 
with  cords,  and  with  bearers  and  soldiers  Ranald  felt 
himself  borne  on  and  on  past  the  city  of  Matsumai,  over 
rivers  and  valleys  and  up  hills,  until  some  time  after 
midnight,  when  the  chair  was  gently  set  down  at 
Matsumai  castle. 

Omba  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  but  unlashed,  Ranald 
was  conducted  through  a  file  of  soldiers  into  a  courtyard. 
By  the  moonlight  he  caught  sight  of  a  dead  wall  topped 
with  sharpened  spikes  of  iron  and  bamboo.  By  a  gate 
in  this  wall  he  was  conducted  through  a  long  passage  to 
a  room  where  sat  a  solitary  guard.  As  the  conductors 
retired,  the  guard,  in  a  friendly  manner,  took  his  hand 
and  led  hirn  up  into  an  apartment  for  dwelling.  "  Not 
at  all  like  a  prison,"  thought  Ranald. 

Thick,  soft  mats  close  together,  covering  the  floor, 
braziers,  two  of  them,  glowing  with  fire,  a  bright  copper 
tea-kettle  singing  on  the  coals,  cups  and  saucers  of  rich 
service,  gleaming  with  gilt,  presented  a  cheerful  welcome. 

"  Be  seated,"  gestured  the  guard. 

A  short,  broad  bench  had  been  provided.  Sitting  there, 
warming  his  chilled  hands,  Ranald  descried  on  the  wall 
two  English  letters,  "  J  "  and  "  C,"  traced  with  charcoal. 
A  train  of  conjecture  flashed  through  his  brain.  In 
voluntarily  he  looked  for  more,  and  casting  his  eyes  over 
head  beheld  a  patch  of  new  boarding  over  a  hole  about 
eighteen  inches  square  in  the  low,  one-story  roof.  Not 
ing  this,  the  guard  led  Ranald  to  a  stanchion  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  supporting  the  ridge-pole  of  the 
roof,  and  pointed  to  other  letters.  Eagerly  Ranald  read, 
"  Robert  McCoy,  John  Brady,  and  John  -  "  the  rest  he 
could  not  decipher  —  scrawled  with  a  lead  pencil.  Point 
ing  to  the  hole  above,  by  signs  and  the  word  "  America  " 
Ranald  was  given  to  understand  that  fifteen  Americans 
had  made  their  escape  by  that  hole,  had  been  caught, 
handcuffed,  dragged  back,  and  their  throats  cut  in  that 
very  room.  The  guard  also  pointed  to  an  iron  bludgeon 
hanging  near,  mentioned  "  McCoy,"  and  made  the  sign 
of  striking. 


224  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  Ah,"  thought  Ranald,  "  I  heard  at  Hong  Kong  of  the 
death  of  the  captain  of  the  '  George  Howe.'  Can  it  be 
that  fifteen  seamen  here  met  the  same  fate?" 

At  this  time,  when  Ranald's  hair  was  beginning  to 
rise,  the  Tajo,  or  principal  man  of  the  place,  entered, 
with  others,  all  in  mantles  of  orange,  the  livery,  perhaps, 
of  the  Prince  of  Matsumai. 

"  Coojeen  ?  "  one  of  them  kindly  inquired,  with  finger 
at  his  lip.  "  Yes,"  nodded  Ranald,  whereupon  a  tray 
with  a  shallow  bowl  of  rice,  and  chopsticks,  were  set 
before  him. 

Long  since,  at  the  very  first  house  with  Omba  She- 
gune,  Ranald  had  learned  to  use  the  chopsticks,  but 
throwing  them  away  now,  he  waited.  Consulting  a 
moment,  one  of  them  brought  forth  a  bamboo  spoon  and 
a  wooden  fork,  rudely  carved,  perhaps,  by  the  hand  of 
some  ingenious  Yankee  sailor  who  had  been  imprisoned 
there,  and  two  knives,  one  long  and  one  short,  like  the 
miniature  swords  of  a  child  samurai.  Rice,  fish,  pickles, 
boiled  kelp,  palatable  and  pleasantly  saline,  each  in  turn 
was  dispensed  by  a  different  waiter,  each  tasting  first,  then 
sitting  on  his  heels  and  bowing  respectfully  as  he  pre 
sented  the  dish.  And  always  with  a  bow  of  equal  polite 
ness  it  was  accepted.  All  his  life  McDonald  had  been 
accustomed  to  grace  before  meat,  and  as  he  now  bent 
his  head  uttering  in  a  low  voice  the  customary  invocation, 
his  ears  caught  the  whispered  word,  "  Padre''  Looking 
quickly  toward  the  speaker  he  saw  an  elderly,  sedate 
individual  imitating  his  clasping  of  the  hands. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  thought  Ranald,  "  that  the  Christian 
faith  still  survives  in  Japan  after  two  centuries  of  banish 
ment,  prohibition,  and  exclusion?" 

For  once,  hundreds  of  years  before,  in  the  wake  of 
Vasco  da  Gama  and  the  Portuguese  around  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope,  the  Jesuit,  Francis  Xavier,  had  introduced 
Christianity  into  Japan.  But  there  came  a  day  when 
"  Japan  for  the  Japanese  "  created  such  an  uproar  that 
the  priests  were  driven  out,  a  ban  was  placed  on  Spain 
and  the  Portuguese,  and  Japan  was  shut  to  the  world. 
Only  the  unoffending  Dutch  remained,  and  they,  under 


AT   MATSUMAI    CASTLE  225 

the  strictest  surveillance,  were  tolerated  at  but  a  single 
port.  For  two  hundred  years  they  were  the  only  nation, 
except  China,  allowed  to  trade  with  Japan,  and  then  only 
at  a  single  port,  with  one  ship  a  year! 

"  Evidently  religion  has  a  strong  hold  of  Japan," 
concluded  Ranald,  recalling  numerous  instances  of  devo 
tion  before  the  altars  of  Yesso. 

It  was  now  the  third  night  watch,  and  as  all  but  one 
guard  departed,  a  present  of  clothing  was  brought  to 
Ranald,  four  garments,  or  gowns  of  cotton  and  silk, 
trousers,  confectionery,  note  paper,  and  a  bed  with  padded 
kimono  coverlid.  Gladly  he  sank  to  rest  with  weary 
head  on  a  wooden  pillow. 

"  My  books,  my  chest,"  he  made  signal  on  the  morrow. 
At  first  the  request  was  refused,  until,  in  the  presence 
of  a  large  number  of  persons,  the  seals  were  broken, 
and  Ranald  took  out  his  books.  Every  day  now  he  sat, 
reading  and  reading  his  Bible,  for  somehow,  he  hardly 
understood  why,  Ranald  felt  they  were  secretly  interested 
in  him  and  his  Book.  At  last,  on  the  first  day  of  Octo 
ber  came  the  order  to  take  junk  for  Nagasaki.  Officers 
in  chain  armor  on  body  and  legs,  and  soldiers  in  red 
and  blue  with  flat  caps  of  japanned  leather,  came  to  see 
him  off,  and  everywhere  were  displayed  the  armorial 
bearings  and  flags  and  coat-of-arms  of  the  Prince  of 
Matsumai. 

"  Can  these  all  have  come  for  a  look  at  me,  a  waif  of 
the  sea?"  thought  Ranald  as  he  beheld  again  the  bay 
covered  with  thousands  of  flaunting  flags,  and  boats  full 
of  people  in  gay  and  festive  attire,  all  straining  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  the  stranger  taken  to  the  junk. 

Still  wondering,  Ranald  went  down  the  gangway, 
where,  on  the  lower  deck,  he  remarked  a  pile  of  match 
locks  not  unlike  the  old  "  Queen  Bess  "  muskets  before 
even  the  day  of  flintlocks.  Seating  himself  awkwardly, 
Japanese  fashion,  crossing  his  feet  and  sitting  on  his 
heels,  Ranald  was  .gratified  by  a  gift  of  apples,  small 
and  slightly  acid,  like  a  farewell  token  from  his  kind- 
hearted  guard  at  Matsumai.  Again  with  regrets  the 
officers  bade  him  "  Sayonara !  "  and  alone  in  his  caged 

15 


226  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

compartment,  with  a  pile  of  matchlocks  at  the  door, 
Ranald  wondered  what  fate  next  awaited  him. 

No  interpreter  was  at  hand,  but  in  pigeon-Japanese 
now  and  then  as  they  dared  the  sailors  spoke  to  him. 
Some  loaned  him  books,  thin-leaved  as  gossamer,  with 
wood-cuts  and  picture  writing. 

But  only  through  portholes  could  Ranald  catch  fugitive 
glimpses  of  the  Sea  of  Japan,  with  junks  and  islands, 
coast  walls,  temples,  castles,  and  cultivated  hillsides, 
golden  as  the  wheat-fields  of  old  Vancouver.  Not  even 
little  Musko  was  there  to  volunteer  a  point  of  informa 
tion,  and  the  sailors  had  evidently  been  forbidden  to 
mention  the  names  of  towns. 

Then  came  a  blow,  the  tail  of  a  northeast  monsoon, 
and  the  sailors  were  praying.  Some  were  sick.  A  doctor 
felt  their  pulse,  immediately  dipping  his  hand  into  a 
basin  of  water,  as  do  the  Haida  medicine-men  of  Queen 
Charlotte's.  But  Ranald  was  not  sick. 


VI 

TEACHING   AT   NAGASAKI 

WEARY    with    two    weeks'    confinement    in    the 
junk,  Ranald  was  glad  when  the  narrow,  deep 
harbor  of  Nagasaki  burst  into  view,  gay  with 
fishing-boats,  and  the  city  herself,  amid  terraced  hills  and 
parks  and  groves.     Like  glass  lay  the  water  beneath  the 
junk,  reflecting  in  its  limpid  depths  the  evergreen  foliage 
of  Nagasaki  hillsides.    Far  up,  little  shrines  and  tea-houses 
nestled  to  the  mountain  tops. 

Fully  prepared  now  for  official  interviews,  espionage, 
and  suspicion,  he  saw  the  two-sworded  gentry  of  the 
country  filing  down  into  his  cabin.  Kneeling,  each 
salaamed,  and  without  rising  slid  into  position  at  the 
sides  on  mats.  But  Sherrei  Tatsnosen,  one  of  the  five 


TEACHING   AT    NAGASAKI  227 

executives  who  assisted  the  Governor,  walked  dignifiedly 
to  his  position,  and  as  he,  too,  sat  in  the  centre,  the  rest 
salaamed  again.  With  a  slight  bow,  and  a  little  grunt  of 
acknowledgment,  Sherrei  glanced  sidelong  at  his  pale- 
faced  secretaries  with  portfolios  and  brushes  ready,  both 
prostrate  with  foreheads  on  the  mats.  Rising  a  little  on 
his  knees,  Saxtuero,  the  elder  interpreter,  a  very  busy  and 
nervous  old  fellow  with  benevolent  face,  scanned  the 
Japanese-featured  American. 

"What  name?"  The  voice  was  soft  and  gentle,  the 
words  not  good  English,  but  comprehensible. 

"  Ranald  McDonald." 

In  a  tone  so  low  that  Ranald  could  scarcely  catch 
it,  the  words  were  repeated  to  Sherrei,  — "  Ranardo 
Macdonardo." 

"  Born  ?  "  inquired  the  other  interpreter.  They  always 
went  in  pairs,  Ranald  noticed. 

Lowering  his  head  nearly  to  the  floor,  with  hands  prone 
and  eyes  downcast,  Moryama  Yenoske  listened  as  Ranald 
answered : 

"  I  was  born  in  Oregon,  lived  in  Canada,  and  sailed 
from  New  York." 

Interpreting  to  Sherrei  by  a  similar  lowly  prostration, 
with  head  only  a  little  more  elevated,  the  low-breathed 
words  were  communicated  as  if  from  the  very  depths  of 
Moryama's  chest. 

Nothing  but  Moryama's  inhalations  could  be  heard, 
not  even  the  motion  of  the  secretaries  switching  their 
brushes  across  the  paper. 

"Nation?"  Saxtuero  inquired  in  his  turn. 

"  I  am  by  birth  a  British  subject,  but  I  belong  to  the 
commercial  marine  of  the  United  States." 

"  Have  you  father,  mother,  brother,  or  sister?  "  Again 
with  lowered  head  Moryama  Yenoske  was  listening,  the 
picture  of  intent  duty  to  his  lord,  Sherrei. 

'''  Yes,"  Ranald  explained  as  best  he  could. 

"Ship?  Where?"  Saxtuero  was  teetering  again  on 
his  knees. 

"  I  left  her  and  came  ashore,  and  she  went  out  to  sea." 
The  grandees  started  when  this  at  last  was  made  clear. 


228  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  Why  leave?  "  Moryama  almost  forgot  himself  now, 
watching  Ranald  out  of  the  corner  of  his  keen,  dark 
eye. 

"  I  had  some  difficulty  with  the  Captain,"  answered 
Ranald,  fearing  to  have  them  know  he  came  voluntarily 
from  curiosity  and  a  love  of  adventure. 

"Difficulty?"  Moryama  knew  not  the  word,  indeed 
much  of  the  conversation  was  more  or  less  uncertain  from 
inability  to  indicate  abstract  ideas  by  signs  and  picture- 
writing,  at  which  they  were  expert.  Handing  his  Dutch- 
English  dictionary,  Moryama  desired  to  be  shown  the 
expression.  Turning  to  the  English-Dutch  part  Ranald 
put  his  finger  on  the  Dutch  for  "  difficulty."  Instantly 
Moryama  caught  it. 

"  Hai !  "  "  Heh  !  "  "  Hah !  "  Variously  it  sounded  to 
Ranald  on  different  lips  as  the  amazed  noblemen  nodded 
and  exclaimed  one  to  another,  emphasizing  their  opinions. 

"  They  say  you  must  have  a  great  heart,"  explained 
Moryama  solemnly. 

Ranald  smiled,  for  was  not  that  his  grandfather's 
word,  "  skookum  turn  him,"  "  a  great  heart,"  when  he 
rode  the  Oregon  sea  looking  toward  Japan  ?  And  some 
how  these  Japanese  looked  like  his  grandfather. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  a  God  in  Heaven?  " 

"  Yes." 

All  was  written  down  by  the  secretaries. 

"  You  will  be  taken  to  the  Town  Hall  or  Court,  before 
the  Governor,  to-morrow,"  Ranald  understood  from  the 
next  speech  of  Moryama.  But  with  morning  a  wind 
came  over  the  sea,  and  the  rain  beat  in  torrents  on  the 
junks  of  Nagasaki. 

On  the  third  day  Sherrei  arrived  with  numerous  boats 
and  guards.  Under  his  direction  Ranald  was  led  out  and 
seated  on  a  mat  in  a  sampan,  between  the  two  interpreters 
and  four  armed  soldiers  fiercely  bristling  with  bows, 
arrows,  and  matchlocks,  as  if  they  feared  he  might  escape. 
Ahead,  with  tasselled  prows  and  fluted  sails,  three  large 
Chinese  junks  lay  in  port,  and  a  fleet  of  the  junks  of  the 
country,  and  deep  in  the  inner  harbor  a  solitary  Dutch 
ship. 


TEACHING   AT    NAGASAKI  229 

The  party  landed  upon  a  jetty  of  stone  steps  in  the  sea 
wall,  Moryama  slipping  up  close  to  his  charge  and  signal 
ling  him  to  enter  a  palanquin.  From  its  open  sides,  borne 
along  between  files  of  soldiers,  Ranald  noted  everywhere 
evidences  of  an  advanced  state  of  civilization,  moats  and 
walls  and  bastions  of  stone,  paved  streets,  gutters  and 
sewers  for  drainage,  fragile  open  houses  like  Summer 
pavilions,  trellised  gates,  gardens,  shops  of  armorers  and 
sword-makers,  and  well-dressed  citizens  falling  behind  in 
long  procession.  At  the  Governor's  residence  the  palan 
quin  rested,  and  stepping  out  Ranald  ascended  with  others 
a  flight  of  broad  stone  steps  leading  through  a  roofed 
gateway  flanked  with  porters'  lodges.  Below,  a  sea  of 
spectators  watched  the  disappearance  of  the  foreigner. 

"  In  half  an  hour  you  will  appear  before  the  Governor," 
whispered  Moryama.  "  Be  not  afraid.  Have  courage. 
I  will  interpret  for  you.  I  will  be  sworn.  But,"  impres 
sively  he  continued,  "  before  you  see  the  Governor  you  will 
come  to  an  image  in  front  of  the  door ;  it  is  the  Devil  of 
Japan.  You  must  put  your  foot  on  it." 

"  I  will ;  I  do  not  believe  in  images,"  answered  Ranald. 

"  Very  good !  very  good !  "  With  a  nod  of  approbation 
Moryama  retired,  while  grim  guards  in  long  black  gowns 
with  swords  and  daggers  closed  up  around. 

"Can  these  be  jailers?"  queried  Ranald  with  startled 
indignation,  "  or  possibly  hangmen  ?  "  Out  of  the  black 
inner  walls  now  and  then  prisoners  were  brought  with 
handcuffs  on  their  wrists. 

"Will  you  eat?"  a  guard  like 'an  executioner  asked 
Ranald.  Haughtily  he  shook  his  head.  However,  a  little 
tea-table  with  rice,  fish,  and  pickled  onions  was  set  before 
him.  Not  from  hunger,  but  in  anger  rather,  to  show 
that  he  was  not  afraid,  Ranald  ate. 

Presently  began  a  movement,  the  partitions  slid  aside, 
and  looking  for  the  image  Ranald  caught  sight  of  a 
metallic  plate  in  the  pavement  that  appeared  to  be  a 
representation  of  the  Virgin  and  Child,  but,  pushed 
suddenly  forward  by  the  surging  crowd  behind,  he  set 
foot  squarely  upon  it  before  he  could  fully  determine. 
Little  did  Ranald  know  that  thousands  of  Japanese, 


230  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

refusing  to  trample  on  that  cross,  had  been  hurled  head 
long  from  a  rock  into  the  sea  in  that  same  harbor  of 
Nagasaki,  and  that  within  gunshot  of  where  he  then 
stood,  thousands  in  danger  of  their  lives  yet  cherished  in 
secret  the  Christian  faith. 

Upon  the  platform  before  him,  in  gowns  of  rich,  stiff 
silk,  sat  the  judges  and  men  of  rank,  with  projecting 
wings  from  the  shoulders  like  gorgeous  dragon-flies. 
Like  the  face  of  a  friend  among  them  appeared  the 
countenance  of  Moryama,  oval  and  long,  with  drooping 
eyelids,  arched  eyebrows,  and  high,  narrow  forehead 
topped  with  a  knot  on  a  clean-shaven  crown.  He  was 
barefooted  now,  with  wings  of  gauze  like  the  rest,  kneel 
ing  there  on  a  mat.  "  Sit,"  he  whispered,  pointing  to 
a  dirty  mat.  The  rest  were  clean  and  new. 

With  sudden  ire  Ranald  refused,  kicking  at  the  mat. 
"  I  see  no  chair  or  mat  for  me."  Always  before,  a  bench 
or  stool  had  been  provided. 

Horrified,  Moryama  begged  him  to  sit  as  he  did, 
reaching  for  a  new  mat.  But  the  sailor's  trousers,  tight 
in  band  and  tight  in  body,  held  him  stiff,  and  Ranald 
knelt  on  one  knee  only.  Every  eye  was  upon  the  alien 
in  this  Japanese  court. 

"  No,  that  will  not  do,"  anxiously  Moryama  endeavored 
to  coach  him. 

"  You  must  sit  right  before  you  see  the  Governor,"  and 
Moryama  himself  showing  him  how,  Ranald  complied. 

Suddenly,  sucking  in  the  breath  with  a  hissing  sound, 
every  Japanese  head  was  lowered  —  the  Governor  was 
coming. 

"  Bow,  bend  low,  kotow,"  whispered  Moryama,  and 
as  grasses  before  a  passing  wind  the  whole  company  fell 
flat  on  their  faces  with  foreheads  on  the  mats.  But 
Ranald  simply  bowed  and  sat  erect,  he  and  the  Governor 
staring  at  each  other. 

At  length,  rising  slowly  from  a  sitting  position  to 
his  knees,  the  Governor  leaned  toward  Ranald  and  ad 
dressed  him  a  few  words,  deep-toned  and  low,  but  audible 
to  all. 

Ranald  did  not  understand,  but  the  look  and  manner 


TEACHING   AT    NAGASAKI  231 

were  not  unfriendly.  "What  did  he  say?"  afterward 
he  inquired  of  Moryama. 

"  He  said  you  must  have  a  big  heart !  "  and  more  than 
ever  Ranald  felt,  "  I  will  not  kotow  to  any  man." 

Again  came  the  examination,  the  same  old  questions 
and  the  same  old  answers,  Moryama  interpreting,  inhal 
ing  audibly  through  his  teeth  at  the  end  of  every  sentence, 
as  if  afraid  of  giving  offence  or  in  sign  of  respect. 

"  Do  you  believe  in  a  God  in  Heaven  ?  " 

"  Yes,"   as  before   Ranald   replied. 

"  What  is  your  belief  as  to  God  in  Heaven  ?  " 

"  I  believe  in  one  God,  and  that  he  is  constantly  and 
everywhere  present." 

Still  Moryama  shook  his  head.  "  What  do  you  believe 
in  respect  to  God  in  Heaven  ?  " 

Ranald  began  to  recite  the  Apostles'  Creed  learned  in 
St.  John's  Episcopal  Academy  at  Red  River,  but  when 
he  came  to  "  and  in  Jesus  Christ,  his  only  Son,  born  of  the 
Virgin  Mary,"  Moryama  suddenly  stopped  him,  quickly, 
whispering,  "  That  will  do !  that  will  do !  "  translating  as 
much  as  he  thought  necessary  to  the  Governor,  omitting, 
as  Ranald  believed,  any  mention  of  the  "  Virgin  Mary  " 
or  "  Christ,"  the  "  Devil  of  Japan." 

"  A  house  will  be  prepared  for  you,"  said  the  Governor, 
"  and  if  you  are  good  you  shall  live  better  and  better." 
So  Moryama  put  it. 

With  a  bow  to  the  Governor  on  his  knees,  and  again 
on  his  feet,  Ranald  was  conducted  out  and  down  the  steps 
to  his  palanquin,  and  away  to  the  enclosure  of  a  castle 
wall,  mossy  and  old,  tipped  with  volcanic  glass  or  ob 
sidian.  A  glimpse  he  caught  of  houses  along  the  inner 
wall  as  they  hurried  him  through  the  court  to  a  little 
cage,  seven  feet  by  nine,  with  a  small  room  adjoining 
for  baths,  hot  and  cold.  Looking  through  his  bars, 
Ranald  felt  indeed  downcast,  for  in  front,  twelve  or 
fifteen  feet  off,  arose  a  wooden  screen  twenty-five  feet 
high  shutting  off  the  view  of  a  little  garden  through 
which  he  had  come.  Attendants  were  at  hand  with  the 
Japanese  bed,  mosquito  bar,  clothes,  and  a  looking-glass 
of  metal  that  had  been  presented  by  the  Governor  of 


232  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Matsumai.  The  room  was  furnished  with  a  fire  in  a 
brazier,  mats,  and  a  tiny  table  eighteen  inches  high,  set 
like  a  toy  house  with  a  cup  and  saucer.  In  the  evening 
a  tray  with  bowls  of  soup  and  rice  was  brought  in,  and  a 
kettle  of  tea.  With  foreboding  heart  Ranald  supped 
alone. 

But  as  days  passed,  even  the  guards  learned  to  love 
Ranald  and  whispered  with  him,  and  Moryama  came 
more  and  more  frequently. 

"  I  want  my  books,"  said  Ranald. 

"  I  cannot  get  them." 

"  I  want  my  Bible." 

"  Don't  mention  *  Bible  '  in  Japan,  it  is  a  bad  book." 

"  But  I  am  lonesome  without  it." 

"  If  you  be  good,"  whispered  Moryama,  "  the  Gover 
nor  will  give  you  everything  you  want."  But  the  cage 
was  always  locked. 

Three  weeks  went  by.  Again  Ranald  was  brought 
before  Sherrei  for  examination.  Particularly  he  inquired, 
"  Why  did  you  leave  your  vessel?  Did  you  not  intend 
with  that,"  holding  up  the  quadrant,  "  to  survey  our 
coast?" 

"  No,"  Ranald  assured  him. 

"  You  must  have  a  great  heart  to  leave  in  a  little  boat. 
Will  not  the  captain  be  punished  ?  " 

"  No." 

"Where  is  your  father?     What  is  his  business?" 

Upon  this  Ranald  could  dilate  with  true  Oriental 
imagery;  his  father  was  the  Governor  of  a  great  fort  in 
Oregon,  a  retinue  of  servants  attended  his  call ;  at  least 
the  feudal  Japanese  could  understand  and  appreciate  the 
feudal  life  of  an  Oregon  fur  trader. 

"Where  is  Oregon?" 

"  Directly  across  the  ocean ;  your  next-door  neighbor." 

"  When  your  vessel  arrives  in  port  will  there  not  be 
an  inquiry  instituted  about  you?" 

Ranald  did  not  know. 

Three  more  weeks  elapsed  and  again  he  was  examined, 
this  time  in  his  cage.  A  Japanese  copy  of  an  English 
atlas  was  spread  before  him. 


TEACHING   AT    NAGASAKI  233 

"  Now  point  out  your  course,  tell  us  about  the  places 
you  stopped  at,  and  the  people  and  products."  And  again, 
as  at  Matsumai,  Ranald  had  officers  and  interpreters  about 
him,  eagerly  scanning  the  first  map  of  the  world  that 
most  of  them  had  ever  seen.  His  own  geography 
awakened  endless  wonderment. 

Again  Ranald  was  examined,  this  time  by  John  Levys- 
sohn,  the  Dutch  Factor  from  the  little  island  in  the 
harbor. 

"  Your  captain  did  very  wrong  in  allowing  you  to  leave 
your  ship  under  such  circumstances,"  said  the  Factor. 

"  It  was  my  wish,"  insisted  Ranald. 

''The  Dutch  ship  is  gone;  you  will  have  to  wait  a 
whole  year  before  being  liberated,"  said  Mr.  Levyssohn. 

Every  day  now,  more  and  more,  Moryama  and  Sax- 
tuero  lingered  at  the  cage  of  Ranald,  quizzing,  question 
ing,  hungry,  eager  to  find  out  about  the  world  outside 
of  Japan.  Off  and  on  others  had  been  coming  from 
the  first,  until  presently,  appointed  by  the  Governor 
of  Nagasaki,  fourteen  came  daily  as  pupils  in  English, 
—  Nish  Youtchero,  Wirriamra  Saxtuero,  Moryama  Ye- 
noske,  Nish  Kataro,  Akawa  Ki  Ejuro,  Shoya  Tamasabero, 
Nikiama  Shoma,  Eromade  Dinoske,  Sujake  Tatsuetsero, 
Hewashe  Yasaro,  Judgero  Shegie,  Hori  Tatsonoske, 
Namoura  Tainoske,  and  Motoke  Sayemon,  —  all  bright 
and  eager,  all  student  samurai  of  the  double  sword. 
Every  day  these  young  interpreters  came  to  read  English, 
Ranald  correcting  and  explaining.  But  Moryama  espe 
cially  was  quick,  keen,  and  receptive,  astonishing  in  rapid 
acquirement.  If  he  had  known  "  George  Howe  "  and 
his  crew,  he  said  nothing.  Such  was  the  veil  of  silence 
over  Japan,  —  learn  everything,  tell  nothing. 

"  Moryama  Yenoske  speaks  Dutch  better  than  I  do," 
one  day  remarked  John  Levyssohn ;  a  little  later  Ranald 
found  his  pupil  poring  over  a  Latin  grammar. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  outside  of  Japan  ?  "  the  American 
inquired. 

"  No,  but  I  have  a  large  library,  and  I  am  studying 
Latin  and  French."  In  French,  too,  Ranald  could  help 
him ;  it  had  been  almost  the  language  of  his  childhood. 


234  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

More  and  more  on  Winter  nights  Ranald's  cage  be 
came  a  house  of  reception,  lit  with  wax  candles  on  low, 
square  stands.  With  shaven  midscalps  and  topknots,  men 
of  all  orders  —  students,  military  officers,  priests,  nobles, 
two-sworded  samurai,  and  daimios  —  came  to  see  and 
talk  with  the  first  teacher  of  English  in  Japan.  Afar  off 
on  the  rainy  walks  he  could  hear  the  clatter  of  their 
wooden  clogs  coming. 

"  Your  honorable  health?  "  they  were  soon  inquiring. 

With  books  and  night  lanterns  and  boxes  of  sweet 
meats  they  were  filing  in,  bowing  profusely.  Heating  a 
kettle  over  his  brazier,  pulling  out  pipes  and  filling  the 
tiny  bowl  to  smoke,  passing  cakes  and  drinking  hot  sake 
out  of  delicate  teacups  like  those  brought  by  Ewa  and 
Kioko  to  Vancouver,  they  asked  questions.  Those  cups 
reminded  Ranald  of  many  things.  Like  the  spinner  of  the 
thousand  and  one  tales  of  the  Arabian  Nights,  he  told 
them  of  Oregon  and  the  fur  trade,  the  great  migrations, 
the  project  of  cutting  railroads  through  lofty  mountain 
chains  to  the  West,  the  wonders  of  the  locomotive  and 
steamboat,  the  war  with  Mexico,  its  battles  and  victories. 

"  August  pardon  deign,"  begged  Hori  Tatsonoske  with 
profound  prostration,  —  in  suppressed  excitement  he  had 
inadvertently  untied  the  knot  of  his  sharkskin  sword- 
sheath,  a  breach  of  samurai  etiquette  almost  beyond 
belief. 

Map  in  hand,  eager  and  attentive,  they  heard  of  the 
accession  of  California,  and  the  discovery  of  gold,  the 
last  word  Ranald  brought  from  the  Anglo-Saxon  world. 
There  was  no  discussion;  only  questions,  always  ques 
tions,  which  Ranald  freely  answered,  as  far  as  he  could. 
But  he  noted  an  evasion  of  any  information  concerning 
Japan  in  return. 

Still  sipping  hot  sake,  "  And  you  were  born  - 

"  Here,"  placing  his  finger  on  Astoria.  "  Destined  to 
become  a  great  seaport,"  he  added,  dreaming  not  of 
Portland,  Seattle,  and  San  Francisco.  Puget  Sound  was 
traced,  and  the  course  of  ships  in  the  Pacific. 

"  All  about  whaling  and  the  number  of  vessels,"  they 
urged. 


TEACHING   AT   NAGASAKI  235 

Long  and  often  this  subject  was  dilated  upon.  "  Japan 
would  be  a  good  place  for  supplies,"  said  Ranald,  "  for 
coal,  provisions,  and  water." 

"  No,"  objected  Moryama,  with  emphasis  at  every  such 
suggestion.  "  No  ship  can  approach  the  coast.  No  ship 
can  enter  our  harbors.  It  is  against  the  law." 

Not  even  Japanese  who  had  left  the  country  could 
return,  as  Ranald  very  well  knew,  for  at  the  expulsion 
of  the  Portuguese  the  proclamation  was  made :  "  No 
Japanese  ship  or  boat  whatever,  or  any  native  of  Japan, 
shall  presume  to  go  out  of  the  country.  .  .  .  All  Japanese 
who  return  from  abroad  shall  be  put  to  death." 

And  more  effectually  to  keep  her  people  at  home,  the 
little  island  kingdom  that  had  sent  expeditions  to  Mexico 
and  the  Philippines,  by  edict,  in  1639,  ordered  the  de 
struction  of  all  boats  built  upon  a  foreign  model.  Thence 
forth,  by  law,  not  a  vessel  could  be  made  above  a  certain 
size,  according  to  government  pattern,  with  open  sterns, 
square  rudders,  and  insufficient  decking  for  ocean  navi 
gation.  Thus  were  the  Japanese,  born  seamen,  condemned 
to  be  shut  up  in  their  little  island  world.  Sea-rovers, 
who  from  time  immemorial  had  skirted  the  Asiatic  shore, 
suddenly  found  themselves  reduced  to  unseaworthy  craft. 
Never  more  dared  they  venture  beyond  sight  of  land  if 
it  could  be  avoided;  favorable  weather  and  winds  must 
be  chosen  for  even  coast  runs,  skirting  here  and  there, 
touching  from  point  to  point  and  island  to  island,  run 
ning  into  shelter  on  the  slightest  indication  of  a  gale. 
Every  rock  on  the  coast  the  cautious  pilots  knew,  every 
little  cove  had  holes  drilled  in  the  rocks,  or  pillars  or  posts 
to  tie  up  cables  in  a  storm. 

But  with  all  their  skill,  —  and  every  Japanese  was  a 
child  of  Neptune,  —  with  all  their  care  to  have  a  port 
under  lee  into  which  to  escape  on  the  least  approach  of 
foul  weather,  still  they  could  not  prevent  their  frail,  open- 
sterned  vessels  from  now  and  then  drifting  into  the 
dreaded  Kuro  Shiwo,  the  Black  Current  of  Japan.  Up 
from  the  Philippines,  along  the  whole  eastern  length  of 
Japan,  a  river  of  indigo  blue  in  the  sea,  rushing  like  a 
mill-race,  swept  the  Kuro  Shiwo  across  the  Pacific  to 


236  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

North  America,  bearing,  as  it  had  borne  for  ages,  the 
jetsam  and  flotsam  of  Asia  to  another  shore.  Forced 
by  typhoons  and  stress  of  weather  into  the  clutch  of  the 
Kuro  Shiwo,  with  masts  rolled  out  and  rudders  gone, 
by  a  smooth  irresistible  sweep  the  unfortunate  castaways 
were  carried  to  North  America,  or  whirled  around  the 
Shiwo  curve  to  Hawaii.  Every  fishing  village  of  Japan 
thus  mourned  her  lost,  every  harbor  of  Pacific  America 
had  her  stories  of  the  stranded.  Nagasaki's  own  island, 
Kiushiu  itself,  lay  in  the  fork  of  the  Black  Current,  and 
hither  came  Kublai  Khan's  armada,  that  scattered  by  a 
typhoon  must  necessarily  have  drifted,  junk  after  junk, 
overseas  to  North  America. 

But  if  Ranald's  pupils  had  ever  dreamed  of  these 
things,  they  could  not  have  discussed  them.  Whatever 
pertained  to  Japan  was  sacredly  secret;  and,  presently, 
donning  their  pattens  and  paper  raincoats,  and  seizing 
their  lanterns,  with  many  a  reverential  obeisance  and 
"  sayonara"  away  they  would  clatter  in  the  midnight 
rain.  Then  the  guard  would  begin,  —  always  an  in 
terested  listener,  —  and  keep  up  the  talk  until  Ranald  fell 
asleep. 

"May  I  bring  Yanawawa,  my  wife?"  begged  Mata- 
gert,  the  captain  of  the  guard,  one  day  when  all  were 
gone. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  her,"  said  Ranald. 

The  captain's  wife,  daughter,  and  three  women  friends, 
came  to  the  guardroom,  each  with  a  fan,  each  in  kimono 
and  sandals,  each  with  silver  bodkins  thrust  through  her 
shining  blue-black  hair. 

"  If  they  want  to  see  me,  why  don't  they  enter  my 
apartment  ?  " 

Giggling,  the  women  entered. 

"  Bundles  of  loose  clothes,"  thought  Ranald,  noting 
with  interest  their  striped  gowns,  wide  sleeves,  and  wide 
belts  of  stiff  raw  silk.  The  laughing,  oblique  eyes  were 
more  than  beautiful,  and  the  young  women's  lips  very 
red,  —  perhaps  he  kissed  them. 

"But  where  is  the  captain?"  Ranald  inquired  a  few 
days  later.  "  I  seem  to  see  him  no  more." 


A    MAN-OF-WAR  237 

"  His  head  has  been  chopped  off  for  breaking  the  law," 
answered  the  new  captain. 

Ranald's  heart  gave  a  quick  jump  at  this  tragic  loss 
of  the  kind-hearted  companion  of  many  a  lonely  hour. 
For  to  the  captain,  as  to  no  one  else,  the  prisoner  could 
speak,  and  he  responded  as  no  one  else  did,  not  even 
Moryama,  with  intelligence  and  sympathy. 

"  May  not  this  very  intimacy  have  made  him  a  marked 
man?"  brooded  Ranald. 


VII 

A   MAN-OF-WAR 

IT  hardly  seemed  possible  that  a  man  could  have 
picked  up  English  so  rapidly  as  did  Moryama 
Yenoske.  Words  that  Ranald  never  mentioned  he 
began  to  use,  fluently  and  grammatically,  even  pronounc 
ing  combinations  of  letters  and  syllables  foreign  and 
difficult  to  the  Japanese  tongue. 

"  Did  I  speak  that  right?  "  "  Th,"  as  in  "  thought  " 
and  "  thunder,"  eluded  Moryama's  effort.  Knowing  he 
had  failed,  again  and  again  he  repeated  the  sound  until 
he  believed  he  had  succeeded.  Ever  his  conversations 
were  of  the  commerce,  customs,  and  geography  of  Europe 
and  America.  "  And  now  tell  me  of  the  government, 
armies,  and  navies."  Light,  nearly  white,  Moryama  had 
a  peculiar  habit  of  nibbling  his  finger  nails  when  in  deep 
thought.  Then,  as  if  with  sudden  inspiration,  his  lively 
eyes  would  brighten  and  beam  with  animation,  as  he  put 
new  and  more  searching  inquiries. 

Ranald  began  to  feel  the  presence  of  a  scholar  and  a 
master,  and  yet  the  most  intimate  friendship.  And  as 
for  Ranald  himself,  he  had  everything,  except  liberty; 
for  now,  notwithstanding  their  religious  prejudices,  his 
Bible  was  allowed,  and  meat  from  Deshima  once  a  week. 

"  But  my  cage  is  too  small,"  he  complained. 


238  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  Shiver  my  timbers !  "  Namoura  Tainoske  threw  down 
his  book  one  day. 

Ranald  was  startled.  Namoura  was  his  smallest  pupil, 
a  mere  child  in  size,  bothering  over  the  th's.  Other 
sailor  expletives  and  objurgations  had  come  out  from 
time  to  time.  No  one  told  him  anything,  but  Ranald 
began  to  suspect  some  other  source  of  English  information 
for  his  wonderfully  brilliant  pupils. 

:'  There  is  a  new  Governor,"  one  day  whispered  a 
guard. 

New  Year's  Day  came,  1849,  and  with  it  a  remem 
brance  from  the  Dutch  Factor,  John  Levyssohn,  on  his 
cooped-up  little  island  down  in  the  harbor,  —  loaves  of 
bread,  a  bottle  of  coffee,  and  more  precious  still,  sixty- 
eight  numbers  of  the  "  London  Atlas  "  and  the  "  Weekly 
Dispatch,"  the  first  newspapers  Ranald  had  seen  in  more 
than  a  year.  School  days  went  on  until  near  the  middle 
of  April,  when  one  evening,  about  half  an  hour  before 
sunset,  for  the  first  time  in  the  country  Ranald  heard 
a  gun. 

"  Has  the  new  Governor  come?  "  he  asked  Moryama. 

With  a  smile  the  pupils  looked  at  one  another.  "  Yes." 
Who  could  have  told  him? 

Or,  possibly  the  suspicion  flitted  through  their  minds 
that  an  American  Governor  had  sent  for  "  Ranardo 
Macdonardo,"  as  they  called  him,  undoubtedly  a  samurai 
in  his  own  country.  For  no  whaler  of  the  black  ships, 
according  to  their  ideas,  had  ever  been  so  much  a 
Japanese  gentleman.  Had  he  not  the  countenance,  the 
tint,  the  military  spirit,  even  the  miniature  sword  pre 
sented  by  the  Governor  at  Matsumai  ?  This  in  itself  was 
a  passport  to  nobility.  He  may  be  a  Prince,  he  will  not 
kotow. 

But  even  as  they  conjectured,  watching  him  curiously, 
a  succession  of  cannon  shots  rang  from  the  headlands, 
the  signal,  unknown  to  Ranald,  that  a  foreign  ship  was 
approaching  the  harbor.  From  the  very  outermost  island 
where  the  ship  was  sighted  a  flag  had  signalled  to  Naga 
saki.  Taken  up,  that  signal  would  be  repeated  from 
cannon  to  cannon,  seven  hundred  miles,  all  the  way  to 


A    MAN-OF-WAR  239 

Yedo,  where,  before  that  ship  could  anchor,  the  Shogun 
would  know  of  it  in  his  palace.  A  sudden,  suppressed 
excitement  seized  the  school.  Never  before  had  the  inter 
preters  so  crowded  in  and  around  his  little  cage,  gather 
ing  close,  in  friendship  or  in  fear;  then,  suddenly,  they 
and  all  the  guards  but  one  went  out. 

"What  is  it?"  whispered  Ranald  at  the  bars  of  his 
cage.  Looking  this  side  and  that  to  see  that  eaves 
droppers  were  quite  out  of  sight,  the  guard  put  up  his 
lips  and  whispered :  "  A  foreign  ship  has  come,  and  can 
non  are  fired  as  a  signal  for  troops  from  the  interior." 

That  night  Ranald  listened,  listened  for  the  gun.  At 
dawn  a  pile  of  papers  lay  displayed  beside  the  guard, 
sheets  with  writing  that  did  not  seem  to  be  a  letter. 

"  What  is  it?  "  inquired  Ranald. 

"  The  list  of  soldiers  who  have  arrived  at  Nagasaki," 
answered  the  guard. 

"  How  many,  pray,  may  that  be?  " 

"  Six  thousand  altogether,  besides  an  unknown  number 
of  attendants  and  followers,  —  an  extraordinary  force." 

"  But  what  foreign  ship,  Dutch?  " 

The  guard  knew  not,  or  declined  to-  answer. 

On  that  same  eventful  evening,  about  half  an  hour 
before  sundown,  in  another  part  of  the  city  thirteen 
American  sailors,  confined,  like  Ranald,  in  a  cage,  had 
heard,  too,  the  booming  of  that  gun. 

"  What  is  it?  "  Robert  McCoy,  a  Philadelphian,  started 
up.  All  around,  their  cage  was  walled  in,  only  one  little 
hole  was  open,  and  out  of  this  ]\lcCoy  looked,  peering, 
peering  in  vain.  Nothing  could  be  seen  but  a  solitary 
guard. 

"  A  foreign  ship,"  whispered  the  guard,  coming  close. 

"  Hark !  another  gun !  I  am  certain  a  ship  is  coming," 
again  whispered  the  guard. 

The  confined  sailors  began  cheering. 

"  Sh-sh !  "  protested  the  anxious  little  brown  man  under 
his  breath.  "  It  is  as  much  as  my  head  is  worth  if  the 
gentlemen  of  the  town  suspect  that  I  have  given  you 
information." 

Meanwhile   a   strange   ship   was   boldly   entering   the 


240  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

harbor  of  Nagasaki.  Large  boats,  sampans,  and  sailing 
vessels  quickly  gathered  in  cordon  across  the  bay,  order 
ing  her  off  and  attempting  to  arrest  her  further  progress, 
but  by  standing  steadily  in  with  a  fine  breeze  she  soon 
broke  their  ranks  and  secured  a  desirable  position  for 
anchoring. 

Still  following,  with  a  great  outcry  the  Japanese  tossed 
over  the  ship's  side  a  long  bamboo  stick  with  a  paper 
affixed.  Lieutenant  Silas  Bent,  of  the  United  States 
Navy,  picked  it  up  and  read  the  following: 

"WARNING." 

"  To  the  respective  commanders,  their  officers  and  crews  of  the 
vessles  approaching  the  coast  of  Japan,  or  anchoring  near  the 
coast  or  in  the  bays  of  that  empire  : 

"  During  the  time  foreign  vessles  are  on  the  coast  of  Japan,  or 
near,  as  well  as  in  the  bay  of  Nagasaky,  it  is  expected  and  likewise 
ordered  that  everyone  of  the  schip's  company  will  behave  properly 
towards  and  accost  civilian  the  Japanese  government  officers  and 
all  the  Japanese  subjects  in  general.  No  one  may  leave  the  ves- 
sle  or  use  her  boats  for  cruising  or  landing  on  the  islands  or  main 
coast,  and  ought  to  remain  on  board  until  further  advise  from  the 
Japanese  government  has  been  received.  It  is  likewise  forbidded 
to  fire  guns,  or  to  use  other  firearms  on  board  the  vessle,  as  well 
as  in  their  boats. 

"  Very  disagreeable  consequences  might  result  in  case  the  afore 
said  schould  not  be  strictly  observed. 

"THE   GOVERNOR   OF   NAGASAKY." 

"  That 's  a  queer  way  to  send  a  notice,"  laughed  Com 
mander  James  Glynn,  tossing  the  paper  overboard  and 
completing  his  anchorage. 

Fleets  of  boats  covered  with  soldiers  began  to  arrive, 
and  from  the  heights  unmasked  batteries  of  heavy  artil 
lery  numbering  in  all  upwards  of  sixty  guns  were  trained 
upon  the  "  Prel}le's  "  deck.  All  night  signal  guns  boomed 
at  intervals  from  headland  to  headland,  warning  the 
country,  and  long  strips  of  canvas  painted  to  represent 
forts,  with  lanterns  at  imaginary  portholes,  partially  con 
cealed  increasing  encampments  of  troops  on  the  elevated 
shores  surrounding  the  anchorage  of  the  "  Preble." 


A    MAN-OF-WAR  241 

"  Moryama  has  gone  on  board  the  ship  to  ask  the 
reason  of  her  coming  here,"  two  days  later  whispered 
the  friendly  guard. 

"  And  what  did  they  say?  "  breathlessly  asked  McCoy. 

"  That  they  have  come  for  some  shipwrecked  seamen." 

"  Us !  us !  us !  "  scarcely  again  could  the  men  refrain 
from  cheering. 

When  Commander  Glynn  first  arrived,  Moryama  Ye- 
noske  and  seven  other  Japanese  had  boarded  the  ship, 
and  with  many  bows  surprised  the  Americans  by  inquir 
ing  in  good  English,  "  With  all  due  respect,  may  we  ask 
why  you  have  come  to  Japan  ?  " 

"  I  have  important  business  with  the  government," 
answered  Commander  Glynn. 

"  Why  did  you  not  anchor  outside  ?  Are  you  not 
aware  that  no  ship  can  approach  Japan?  Did  you  not 
receive  a  paper?"  haughtily  inquired  Moryama,  again 
profoundly  bowing,  but  with  a  stern  look  in  his  eye. 

"  No.  One  of  your  boats  came  alongside  and  threw 
on  the  deck  of  this  ship  a  bamboo  stick,  in  which  was 
stuck  a  paper.  If  that  paper  was  intended  for  me  it  was 
not  the  proper  manner  to  communicate  with  me,  and  I 
ordered  it  to  be  immediately  thrown  overboard.  I  am 
ready  to  receive  all  communications  which  come  to  me 
in  a  proper  and  respectful  manner;  and  now  let  me  ask 
why  you  chose  this  method  of  sending  me  a  letter  ?  " 

"  That  was  right,  that  was  right,"  hastily  spoke  Mo 
ryama,  in  the  very  tone  and  words  Ranald  McDonald 
used  in  encouraging  the  daily  recitation,  and  yet  visibly 
embarrassed  at  the  attitude  of  the' American  commander. 
"  Our  laws  require  that  all  ships  shall  be  notified  of 
certain  things  on  their  first  appearance  on  our  coast. 
But  this  was  a  common  man;  he  had  his  orders  as  I 
have  mine,  from  the  officers  over  me,  and  you  must  not 
blame  him." 

Anxiously  Moryama  scanned  the  horizon.  "  Where  is 
the  other  ship  ?  " 

"There  is  no  other  ship,"  answered  the  surprised 
commander. 

"  Are  there  not  two  of  you?  " 

16 


242  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  No,  I  am  alone." 

Moryama  looked  incredulous,  but  said  nothing,  and 
still  kept  an  eye  at  intervals  upon  the  sea.  In  fact,  un 
known  to  Commander  Glynn,  as  he  learned  afterwards, 
another  ship  of  the  squadron  had  passed  through  the 
straits  on  another  errand,  and  such  was  the  espionage 
of  the  shores,  news  of  this  also  had  been  signalled 
to  Nagasaki  and  Yedo.  Nothing  escaped  the  watch 
ful  eyes  of  the  Japanese,  nothing  was  revealed  to  a 
stranger. 

Still  lingering,  as  if  he  had  something  more  on  his 
mind,  Moryama  turned  to  Commander  Glynn. 

"  You  have  had  a  war  with  Mexico?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  have  won  ?  " 

"  Yes." 
-  "  You  have  taken  a  part  of  her  territory  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  have  discovered  large  quantities  of  gold 
in  it  ?  " 

More  than  amazed,  Commander  Glynn  heard  these 
inquiries  from  the  hermit  nation  of  Japan.  But  what 
had  been  their  source  of  information  Moryama  did  not 
vouchsafe  to  say. 

At  four  o'clock  on  the  same  day  came  Sherrei  Tats- 
nosen,  the  Lieutenant-Governor,  with  thirty  two-sworded 
gentlemen  of  rank  in  loose  gowns  of  silk  and  petticoat 
trousers,  asking  the  same  question,  —  "  Why  have  you 
come  to  Japan  ?  " 

"  Before  I  answer,"  insisted  Commander  Glynn,  turn 
ing  to  Moryama  Yenoske,  "  I  want  to  know  if  this  officer 
is  the  proper  person  for  me  to  communicate  with?  " 

'  Yes,  yes,"  Moryama  earnestly  assured  him.  "  He 
is  a  high  chief,  a  military  chief.  He  goes  to  the 
Governor." 

"  Very  well,  I  have  business  with  the  Governor  of 
Nagasaki.  I  come  for  some  shipwrecked  American  sea 
men  who  are  understood  to  be  now  in  Japan." 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  ? "  began  the  evasive 
Lieutenant-Governor. 


A    MAN-OF-WAR  243 

IP- 

"  From  the  United  States  of  North  America,  and  the 
port  of  New  York." 

"  How  many  men  do  you  carry  ?  " 

"  One  hundred  and  forty-one." 

"  How  did  you  know  there  were  Americans  in  Japan  ?  " 

"  I  heard  it  from  my  commodore,  a  great  chief  who 
commands  many  ships  of  war  larger  than  mine.  And 
now  may  I  ask  you,  are  there  any  wrecked  seamen  in 
Japan?" 

'  There  are  fourteen,  originally  there  were  sixteen, 
but  two  have  died." 

"  When  did  these  sixteen  come  to  Nagasaki?  " 

"  Fifteen  were  wrecked  on  the  Island  of  Matsumai, 
from  a  whaling  vessel,  and  came  to  Nagasaki  in 
September,  and  one  two  months  later,  in  November." 

Every  day  now  officials  came,  delaying,  questioning, 
hindering,  evading  the  object  of  the  "  Preble  " ;  more 
and  more  soldiers  poured  out  on  the  water,  and  nearer 
drew  the  cordon  of  guardboats  about  the  ship.  By  night 
torches  at  the  end  of  long  poles  were  held  aloft  to 
observe  if  any  person  attempted  to  swim  ashore;  indeed, 
as  many  precautions  were  taken  to  prevent  communica 
tion  as  if  the  vessel  had  had  the  plague. 

"  I  object  to  armed  boats  anchoring  around  my  ship. 
It  is  uncivil,"  complained  Commander  Glynn  to  Moryama. 
"  Free  intercourse  and  reciprocal  civility  will  tend  to  a 
better  acquaintance  and  mutual  good-will  between  Japan 
and  other  countries.  For  do  you  know,  on  account  of 
this  system  of  isolation  you  have  not  a  friend  in  the 
whole  world?  " 

"  Why  are  American  ships  of  war  sent  so  far  from 
home,"  inquired  Moryama,  as  if  nothing  had  been  said 
to  him. 

"  Wherever  we  have  merchant  ships  or  citizens  my 
government  sends  men-of-war  to  protect  them  from  in 
justice  and  oppression.  It  is  to  relieve  my  distressed 
countrymen  that  I  am  here." 

"How  many  ships  has  your  government?" 

"  Sixty,  seventy,  or  a  hundred,  perhaps  more  by  this 
time,  for  I  have  been  a  long  time  on  the  way." 


244  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Other  official  interrogation  points  pressed  forward,  one 
inquiring  of  Commander  Glynn  how  old  he  was.  After 
some  bantering  the  age  was  given.  "  And  now,  how  old 
is  your  Emperor?  " 

"  Though  I  have  been  to  Yedo  and  have  seen  him,  I 
am  unable  to  give  his  age,"  interpreted  Moryama. 

"  How  far  is  it  to  Yedo  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know."  In  fact,  none  of  them  seemed  to 
know  anything  on  any  other  subject  than  their  master's 
message. 

"  Has  your  government  sent  me  an  answer?  "  insisted 
Commander  Glynn  on  the  23d  of  April. 

"  No,  another  time,  not  now." 

"When?"  roared  the  Commander. 

"  I  cannot  say." 

"  Tell  the  Governor  I  wish  to  depart  immediately. 
Have  these  Americans  been  informed  that  a  United 
States  man-of-war  has  arrived  to  take  them  home  ?  " 

"  I  cannot  say,  but  Mr.  John  Levyssohn  has  been  to 
see  the  Governor  and  begged  him  to  deliver  up  the  men 
to  him,  to  be  returned  to  you." 

"  You  say  Mr.  Levyssohn  has  begged  the  Governor 
to  give  the  men  to  him?  Understand  me,  I  came  here 
to  treat  with  the  Governor  of  Nagasaki,  and  not  with 
Mr.  John  Levyssohn,  or  any  other  individual.  I  am 
under  positive  orders  to  demand  from  the  Governor  of 
Nagasaki  the  release  of  the  Americans  in  his  hands.  I 
want  a  reply  to  my  question." 

"  This  cannot  be.  Mr.  Levyssohn  will  see  you  day 
after  to-morrow." 

"  I  will  go  at  once  to  see  Mr.  Levyssohn." 

"  You  cannot.     He  is  sick." 

"  I  will  go  to  the  Governor  myself,"  stormed  the 
Commander. 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no,  you  cannot  go  to  the  Governor,  it  is 
against  the  law.  But  Mr.  Levyssohn  —  " 

"  That  is  enough.  The  ship  can  stay  at  Nagasaki  no 
longer.  I  had  business  only  with  the  Governor  of  the 
City,  and  know  nothing  of  any  Dutch  Factor  in  this 
business.  I  will  get  under  way  at  once,  yes,  in  five 


A   MAN-OF-WAR  245 

minutes,  and  report  to  my  superior  and  to  my  govern 
ment  that  you  decline  to  give  up  the  men.  And  the 
United  States,  which  sent  me  here,  knows  well  ^  how  to 
recover  its  citizens,  and  has  the  power  to  do  so."  Com 
mander  Glynn  turned  to  Lieutenant  Bent  with  a  word 
and  gesture  for  departure.  The  crew  started  to  obey  — 
seizing  the  chain  cable  of  the  anchor. 
Moryama  began  to  tremble.  "  I  think  - 

"  Stop !  "  commanded  the  Commander.  '  You  have 
had  time  enough  to  think,  and  I' 11  do  the  thinking  now. 
Do  you  promise  me,  now,  that  the  men  shall  be  delivered 
up  in  three  days  from  this?  I  will  delay  no  longer." 

Thus  pressed,  the  Governor's  messenger  promised, 
"  Yes,  in  three  days." 

With  a  smile  Glynn  gave  his  hand :  "  I  rely  on  your 
word  and  honor." 

The  Japanese  officials,  themselves  evidently  relieved, 
now  walked  over  the  vessel,  inspecting  all  parts,  and  the 
crews  at  general  quarters. 

The  26th  of  April  was  a  busy  day  for  Moryama 
Yenoske.  Early  in  the  morning  he  came  to  Ranald  with 
the  announcement  of  a  ship. 

"Is  it  from  Oregon?"  Home  leaped  first  to  the 
memory  of  the  schoolmaster. 

"  No,  from  New  York,"  and  thereupon  Moryama 
showed'  Ranald  a  letter  he  had  prepared  and  translated 
into  English,  purporting  to  be  a  communication  to  the 
commanding  officer  of  the  "  Preble,"  requiring  him  to 
leave  the  harbor  of  Nagasaki  on  the  reception  of  the 
men.  Ranald  carefully  looked  it  over,  correcting  some 
errors  of  his  pupil,  and  passed  it  back,  scarce  realizing 
that  this  would  be  his  last  lesson  to  the  Great  Interpreter 
that  opened  Japan. 

"  And  did  they  ask  for  me?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh,  then  my  whaling  captain  must  have  got  scared 
and  given  my  name." 

"And  now,"  asked  Moryama,  "what  is  the  rank  of 
the  captain  of  the  '  Preble/  counting  from  the  highest 
chief  in  your  country  ?  " 


246  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Ranald  thought  a  moment.  "  The  people,"  he  said, 
"  are  first." 

"  First  the  people?  ':  Moryama  could  not  understand. 
"  Greater  than  the  President  ?  " 

"  Yes,  the  people  are  first,  then  the  President  of  the 
United  States,  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  the  commo 
dore,  post  captain,  and  commander." 

"  And  this  man  is  a  commander?  " 

"  He  is  a  commander,"  repeated  Ranald,  a  rank  which 
appeared  sufficiently  elevated  to  excite  the  surprise  of 
Moryama. 

Again  Ranald  was  carried  to  the  Town  House  in  his 
sedan  chair,  amidst  thousands  of  soldiers  armed  with  two 
swords  each,  bows,  arrows,  and  short-stocked  matchlocks 
of  ancient  pattern  long  since  discarded  in  Europe.  And 
there,  kneeling,  to  his  amazement  Ranald  beheld  other 
captives,  worn  and  pale  from  long  confinement.  But 
their  very  sailor  garb  gave  his  heart  a  joyful  beat. 

"  Bow,  bend,  kotow,"  urged  Moryama,  magnificent 
now  in  court  dress  of  silken  robes  and  gauzy  shoulder 
wings. 

But  though  the  whole  vast  throng  fell  with  foreheads 
to  the  floor  before  the  august  old  Governor,  and  the  new 
Governor,  and  the  two-sworded  samurai  of  Nagasaki,  not 
one  American  in  the  lot  gave  more  than  a  simple,  proud, 
respectful  bow.  And  in  the  new  Governor  Ranald  at 
once  recognized  an  official  who,  incognito,  since  the 
arrival  of  the  "  Preble "  had  visited  him  in  his  cage. 
And  with  him  Ranald  had  talked,  not  dreaming  his  inter 
locutor  was  the  distinguished  nobleman  and  new  Gov 
ernor  of  Nagasaki.  Through  the  interpreter,  Moryama, 
the  new  Governor  now  told  of  the  arrival  of  the  ship, 
and  that  the  government,  after  considering,  had  decided 
to  allow  them  to  depart  on  her.  "  But  it  will  be  neces 
sary  for  you  to  go  first  to  the  Dutch  superintendent  at 
Deshima,  and,"  threateningly  he  added,  "  if  you  ever 
again  set  foot  on  the  soil  of  Japan  it  will  be  the  worse 
for  you." 

Through  Moryama  each  returned  thanks,  and,  step 
ping  into  palanquins,  they  were  borne  out,  past  the  gates 


A   MAN-OF-WAR  247 

and  the  guards  into  the  crowded  streets,  all  the  seamen 
but  Ranald  gayly  singing,  "  Cheerily,  men,  oh !  "  Down 
through  double  lines  of  soldiers  in  clanking  armor  they 
were  taken  to  the  little  island  in  the  harbor,  where,  for 
long  months,  over  his  stone  wall  the  Hollander  watched, 
watched  for  the  coming  of  his  ship.  By  a  narrow  cov 
ered  bridge  over  a  moat  they  crossed  into  the  little  fan- 
shaped  prison  island  of  Deshima,  two  hundred  and  forty 
by  six  hundred  feet,  where,  subject  alwrays  to  suspicion 
and  shadowed  by  spies,  the  Dutch  lived.  "  Hollanda ! 
Hollanda ! "  the  boys  yelled  after  them  if  ever  they 
appeared  in  the  streets  of  Nagasaki ;  indeed,  they  were 
not  allowed  to  step  on  the  mainland  without  a  special 
permit  from  the  Governor. 

So,  while  Japan  shut  fast  was  developing  within  a 
unique  civilization  of  her  own,  this  little  back  gate  alone, 
like  a  keyhole  to  the  world,  was  kept  open;  even  then 
so  little  was  the  trade  that  the  one  ship  barely  paid  the 
cost  of  maintaining  the  factory  at  Deshima.  But  proud 
even  of  this  slight  advantage  the  Dutch  held  on,  at 
intervals  notifying  the  government  of  events  in  the  outer 
world,  and  urging  an  open  door  to  the  nations  that  would 
come,  sooner  or  later,  to  batter  down  the  gates  of  Japan. 

"  Do  not  kneel ! "  Chief  Factor  John  Levyssohn 
stepped  back  when  from  long  custom  the  sailors  started 
to  sink  on  their  knees.  "  This  is  a  Christian  house." 

There  from  the  little  veranda  pointing  seaward  was 
visible  the  whole  confined  world  of  the  Dutch  in  Japan, 
high  walls,  an  opening  to  the  water,  with  a  cordon  of 
posts  beyond  which  even  Japanese  boats  might  not  ven 
ture  in  to  communicate  with  the  despised  Hollanders, 
and  above,  a  battery  with  guns  pointed  ever  toward 
Deshima.  Japanese  women  peeped  out  of  the  shutters; 
not  even  white  wives  might  come  to  Deshima,  and  any 
children  were  taken  away  to  be  reared  as  Japanese. 
Spies  guarded  the  end  of  the  bridge,  the  only  gate  to 
the  land ;  spies  watched  the  two  water  gates,  the  only 
exits  to  the  sea.  Spies  were  scullions  in  the  kitchen  and 
chambermaids  in  the  garret,  hovering  about  so  that  no 
two  could  talk  together  unmolested. 


248  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

<% 

"  Good  man  is  that  Dutchman,"  whispered  John 
Martin  as  they  sat  down  to  dinner.  "  I  could  not  eat 
after  I  heard  that  the  ship  had  arrived." 

But  here  was  enough  for  all  the  starved  boys  who  now 
for  months  had  longed  for  the  food  of  their  country.  A 
table  greeted  them,  with  knives  and  forks  instead  of  chop 
sticks,  with  chairs  and  meat  and  bread  and  silver  table 
service.  And  Java  coffee,  —  "  The  best  ever,"  declared 
Robert  McCoy,  the  incorrigible. 

"  You  are  at'  liberty  now  to  walk  about  the  island  and 
do  as  you  like  until  your  ship  sails,"  said  Mr.  Levys- 
sohn,  handing  them  over  to  the  physician  of  Deshima, 
who  took  great  pride  in  showing  them  about  the  grounds 
and  gardens,  laid  out  with  miniature  groves  and  land 
scapes.  At  last,  when  the  moment  came,  all  in  a  body 
returned  to  thank  the  noble  Dutch  Factor  for  his  kindness 
and  interferences  in  their  behalf. 

"  Cheerily,  men,  oh !  "  they  sang  as  the  boat  pulled  out 
toward  the  "  Preble." 

"  To-day  you  w-ill  get  your  countrymen.  Will  you 
then  go  away?"  Moryama  had  almost  omitted  his 
dinner  to  obtain  another  interview  with  Commander 
Glynn. 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  keep  me  here,"  replied  the 
Commander,  satisfied  that  the  release  and  surrender  of 
these  seamen  was  probably  the  first  instance  in  which  the 
stubborn  policy  of  the  Japanese  had  yielded  to  the 
demands  of  foreigners. 

A  new  official  had  come  with  Moryama. 

"  And  will  you  sail  ?  "  he  asked  with  earnestness. 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  an  assurance  that  seemed  to 
relieve  his  too  evident  anxiety.  "  But  am  I  not  to  see 
Mr.  Levyssohn,  first,  to  thank  him  for  his  favors?" 

"  Your  request  has  been  refused  by  the  Governor,  as 
contrary  to  the  laws  of  Japan,"  replied  Moryama. 

"  That  is  enough,"  smiled  Commander  Glynn.  "  Are 
the  laws  of  Japan  in  a  book?  " 

"  No,  no,  our  Governor  gives  us  the  law." 

"  Ah,  my  government  also  has  laws,  but  they  are 
printed  in  a  book.  Will  you  accept  this  copy  ?  " 


A    MAN-OF-WAR  249 

"  No,  no,  by  our  law  I  cannot  accept  it." 
The  number  and  object  of  American  vessels  resorting 
to  Japanese  waters  were  next  discussed,  eliciting  the  sur 
prising  information  that  great  and  greater  fleets  were 
fitting  out  each  year  for  Pacific  whaling;  indeed,  that 
not  less  than  fifty  sail  had  just  passed  through  Behring 
Strait  to  take  oil  in  the  newly  discovered  cruising  grounds 
of  the  Arctic. 

With  unmoved  countenances  the  little  brown  men 
listened.  No  wonder  strange  stories  were  afloat,  of  the 
black  ships  sailing,  ever  sailing  by  Matsumai ;  no  won 
der  the  court  chronicler  recorded  "  foreign  ships  visiting 
our  northern  shores  in  such  numbers  as  has  not  been 
seen  in  recent  years."  From  their  mossy  old  castles  the 
daimios  were  watching,  for  had  not  the  Mikado  com 
manded  that  the  coasts  should  be  strictly  guarded,  "  to 
prevent  dishonor  to  the  Divine  Country  "  ?  Timid  Japa 
nese  mothers  hugged  tighter  their  babes  as  the  mysteri 
ous  black  ships  went  sailing  by,  suspicious  old  men 
speculated  on  what  the  "  foreign  devils  "  could  be  doing 
in  those  seas,  and  gay  young  two-s worded  samurai  over 
their  sake  were  singing  the  song  with  which  all  Japan 
was  ringing: 

"  Through  a  black  night  of  cloud  and  rain 

The  Black  Ship  plies  her  way, 
An  alien  thing  of  evil  mien  — 
Across  the  waters  gray." 

"  And  Japan  would  be  an  important  point  for  them  to 
obtain  supplies,"  urged  Commander  Glynn,  expatiating 
on  the  needs  of  the  whaling  ships,  compelled  to  carry 
everything,  from  a  boat  to  bricks  for  their  try  works; 
and  if  a  hull  needed  repairing  not  a  dry  dock  from  the 
North  Pole  to  the  South  in  all  the  Pacific.  Fresh  water, 
coal,  provisions,  and  ports  of  refuge  from  typhoons  were 
discussed.  And  still  the  Japanese  shook  their  heads :  "  It 
is  against  the  law.  No  stranger  can  enter  Japan." 
^  Almost  enraged  at  this  cool  disregard  for  humanity, 
Commander  Glynn  urged  the  opening  of  the  port  for 
their  own  commercial  interest.  The  Japanese  laughed. 


250  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"Commercial  interest?"  But  the  Dutch  boats  were 
approaching  with  the  sailors  from  Deshima.  Without 
delay  and  with  many  bows  the  little  brown  men  made 
their  exit  over  the  ship's  side,  and  not  until  they  were 
well  away  toward  land  were  the  surrendered  seamen 
allowed  to  advance.  With  a  shout  and  a  song,  "  Cheerily, 
men,  oh !  "  the  boys  clambered  up  to  be  warmly  wel 
comed  by  Commander  Glynn  and  his  sympathetic  crew, 
while  the  "  Preble  "  sped  away  to  join  her  squadron  on 
the  coast  of  China. 

"  Tell  the  Americans  not  to  send  their  whaling  ships 
any  more  into  Japanese  waters,"  was  the  word  from  the 
Governor  of  Nagasaki  to  John  Levyssohn  at  Deshima. 
But  the  Dutch  Factor  said  nothing.  Long  .and  in  vain 
had  he  urged  Japan  to  open  her  ports,  and  now,  if 
America  chose  to  take  the  matter  in  hand  —  the  Dutch 
Factor  kept  his  own  counsel.  The  pent-up  life  at 
Deshima  was  not  such  a  blessing  that  it  ought  to  go  on 
forever.  Imprisoned,  humiliated,  spied  upon,  guarded 
like  malefactors,  hooted  at  by  street  boys,  and  forbidden 
the  empire,  why  should  the  Dutch  Factor  keep  ships  out 
of  Japan?  He  was  forbidden  even  to  receive  guests  in 
his  own  counting-house.  It  was  time  for  Japan  to  hear 
from  the  world. 

But,  in  a  way,  the  Dutch  liked  Japan,  and  Japan  liked 
the  Dutch,  because  they  were  mutual  enemies  of  Spain, 
the  despoiler  of  nations.  Japanese  envoys  had  been  in 
Holland  when  the  son  of  William  of  Orange  was  in  the 
field  of  battle  against  Spain  two  hundred  years  before; 
Japanese  envoys  heard  of  the  struggle  of  rising  Protes 
tantism  against  the  Church  of  Rome;  then,  with  a  snap, 
closed  the  gates  of  Japan,  save  only  for  the  one  Dutch 
ship  a  year  at  the  little  island.  Catholic  Christianity 
planted  by  Spain  and  the  Portuguese  was  rooted  out, 
images  of  the  Virgin  and  Child  were  trodden  upon  as 
the  Devil  of  Japan,  and  converts  were  martyred  as  in  the 
days  of  old  Nero.  But  for  two  hundred  years  the  little 
seed  of  Christian  civilization  had  been  growing,  secretly. 
Within  the  shut-up  nation  there  seethed  a  hidden  dis 
content.  Books  came  on  the  yearly  Dutch  ship,  precious 


A    PARTING   WITH    REGRET  251 

books  to  be  hid  and  read;  thought  was  alive.  Long 
enough  had  authors  been  imprisoned,  long  enough  had 
scholars  nourished  their  intellectual  hunger  in  secret. 
America,  synonym  for  liberty,  was  coming  across  the 
sea  to  a  land  as  old  as  Greece  and  as  full  of  dreams. 


VIII 
A   PARTING   WITH   REGRET 

GONE,  without  a  "Sayonara!" 
Almost  regretfully  Ranald  watched  the  depart 
ing  boats  toward  that  land  now  wreathed  in  the 
filmy  green  of  Spring.  He  was  not  ready  to  leave  Japan, 
and  he  felt,  too,  that  they  were  not  ready  to  give  him  up, 
but  dared  no  longer  detain  him.  Moryama  Yenoske, 
small  of  stature,  of  delicate  and  refined  features,  fairer 
than  most  Japanese,  had  been  his  most  intimate  friend 
and  companion.  Those  eyes,  brilliant,- black,  and  pene 
trating,  scarcely  Mongolian,  had  watched  him  day  by 
day  with  fraternal  expression;  and  that  countenance, 
almost  like  that  of  a  clergyman,  was  imprinted  upon 
Ranald's  psychic  self  like  that  of  a  dear  friend.  How 
often  before  officials  that  benevolent  face  had  lighted 
with  a  smile  at  each  question,  as  if  to  give  encourage 
ment  and  confidence!  Distinctly,  in  the  region  of  his 
heart,  Ranald  McDonald  felt  the  pain  of  bereavement,  - 
he  loved  Moryama  Yenoske. 

And  the  other  young  men,  too,  whom  he  had  been  set 
to  teach  by  the  Governor  of  Nagasaki,  had  stolen  in 
upon  his  affections,  a  lone  waif  in  a  strange  hemisphere. 
That  they  were  endowed  with  intellect,  subtle  and  re 
fined,  the  keenest  in  the  world,  he  could  not  doubt,  for 
intuitively,  as  it  were,  they  appropriated  his  thought  even 
more  clearly  than  he  himself  had  grasped  it.  And  an 
other,  a  nobleman  of  Nagasaki,  had  come  often  with 
books  and  maps  to  inquire  of  distant  lands. 


252"         MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

In  this  courtesy  of  manner,  so  like  and  yet  unlike  the 
code  enforced  at  Fort  Vancouver,  Ranald  especially  de 
lighted.  The  bared  head,  the  formal  obeisance,  the  eti 
quette  of  France  had  been  with  Ranald  from  his  cradle, 
but  here  he  found  a  newer,  profounder  art,  and  easily 
became  adept  in  it.  With  a  shock  he  awoke  to  his 
sailor  companions,  —  rude,  boisterous,  jovial,  but  warm, 
sympathetic,  and  true. 

"And  how  came  you  to  know  of  me?"  inquired 
Ranald  when  his  name  was  read  off  by  Commander 
Glynn  in  the  cabin. 

"McDonald  of  Oregon?  I  heard  of  you  back  at 
Hawaii.  They  said  you  were  drowned.  Here,  read  your 
own  obituary."  For  the  commander  had  a  copy  of  the 
identical  newspaper  slip  of  Mr.  Damon's  article  on  the 
finding  of  the  tiny  rudder  of  the  "  Little  Plymouth," 
picked  up  by  the  Falmouth  whaler  "  Uncas  "  that  morn 
ing  when  Ranald  had  capsized  his  little  craft  before 
landing  at  Timoshee. 

'  Then  you  were  not  after  me?  " 

"  Not  exactly ;  but  I  am  glad  to  find  you  among  the 
survivors.  That  Dutch  Factor  had  sent  word  of  the 
crew  of  the  '  Ladoga  '  to  the  American  consul  at  Batavia, 
and  he  in  turn  notified  the  Commodore.  The  demand, 
however,  was  made  in  such  terms  as  to  impress  the 
Japanese  authorities  that  all  were  included  in  it." 

Ranald  smiled  with  intuitive  confidence  in  his  Japanese 
friends. 

"  No,  Captain  Glynn,  I  don't  think  they  wished  to  get 
rid  of  me,  at  least  not  just  yet;  but  at  the  same  time  they 
may  have  thought  it  their  duty,  according  to  their  law." 

And  that  law !  How  Ranald  had  trampled  in  the  dust 
the  Terrible  Edict! 

"So  long  as  the  sun  shall  warm  the  earth  let  no  Christian  dare 
to  come  to  Japan ;  and  let  all  know  that  the  King  of  Spain  him 
self,  or  the  Christian's  God,  or  the  Great  God  of  all,  if  he  violates 
this  command,  shall  pay  for  it  with  his  head." 

Such  was  the  wall  of  fire  around  Japan.  For  some 
how,  with  his  Japanese  face  and  his  evident  love  of  books, 


A    PARTING   WITH    REGRET  253 

they  had  set  Ranald  down  as  a  gentleman  and  a  scholar, 
even  as  he  had  taken  Moryama  and  his  friends  to  be 
professors  and  students. 

With  sails  filled,  sweeping  along  toward  Hong  Kong, 
the  adventurers  told  their  individual  tales.  In  three  boats, 
on  account  of  bad  treatment,  Ranald's  companions  had 
voluntarily  left  the  whale-ship  "  Ladoga,"  —  fifteen  men, 
nine  of  whom  were  Sandwich  Islanders,  —  and  made  for 
Japan,  contrary  to  the  laws  of  the  country.  Representing 
themselves  as  shipwrecked  sailors,  the  boys,  some  of  them 
in  their  teens,  had  been  taken  into  custody  at  Matsumai 
and  imprisoned  in  the  identical  castle  where  Ranald  had 
arrived  later. 

"  Yes,  we  tried  to  escape  several  times,"  admitted 
Robert  McCoy,  a  youth  of  twenty-three.  "  Twice  we 
cut  through  the  roof,  once  through  the  side  of  our  cage 
and  climbed  a  wall,  and  once  burned  through  the  floor 
and  dug  out  under  the  fence." 

In  fact,  they  gave  so  much  trouble  that  the  worried 
Japanese  officials  were  at  their  wits'  end  to  know  what 
to  do  with  these  obstreperous  Americans,  who  would 
persist  in  running  at  large,  —  a  proceeding  so  outrageous 
and  contrary  to  all  Japanese  law  and  precedent  that 
it  had  to  be  reported  to  the  highest  tribunals.  Tried 
to  escape!  unthinkable  and  contrary  to  all  etiquette. 
Who  ever  heard  of  a  Japanese  trying  to  escape?  Nay, 
rather,  in  gentlemanly  fashion  he  walked  to  his  doom, 
even  though  that  doom  might  be  to  rip  open  his  own 
abdomen.  But  these  barbarians  —  what  could  one 
expect  ? 

"  And  why  did  you  try  to  escape?  "  Commander  Glynn 
questioned  them  in  the  quiet  of  his  cabin. 

"  Well,  first,"  -  McCoy  volunteered  as  spokesman,  — 
"  we  tried  to  get  to  the  Dutch  ship  that  we  heard  was 
in  the  harbor,  and  once,  after  that,  we  hoped  to  find  our 
boats  and  reach  the  shores  of  China.  That  time  we  got 
to  the  mountains,  but  hunger  drove  us  to  the  house  of 
a  farmer  for  food.  Kindly  inviting  us  in,  straightway 
he  sent  for  the  police,  who  came  and  arrested  and  tied 
us  while  still  at  the  table." 


254  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Full  depositions  of  all  were  taken,  —  of  their  imprison 
ment  and  harsh  treatment  after  each  escape,  and  of  the 
kindness  of  Mr.  Levyssohn  in  begging  permission  to 
send  them  necessary  clothing  and  refreshments,  and  in 
notifying  the  American  consul  at  Batavia, 

When  fastened  in  the  stocks,  and  when  shivering  in 
the  grated  cages  without  fire  or  bedclothes  in  Winter 
weather,  more  than  once  McCoy  threatened :  "  If  the 
Americans  hear  of  your  cruelty,  they  will  come  to  Japan 
and  punish  you." 

"  Ha,  ha !  "  laughed  the  Japanese,  "  if  your  ships  come 
our  priests  will  blow  them  to  pieces." 

For  was  it  not  wrought  into  the  very  marrow  of  every 
Japanese  that  when  Kublai  Khan  —  the  Great  Khan  of 
China  —  tried  to  invade  Japan  with  a  fleet  of  a  thousand 
junks  and  a  hundred  thousand  men,  a  mighty  typhoon 
arose  and  scattered  the  Mongol  armada?  What  ships 
now  dare  molest  the  Divine  Country  ?  When  heads  were 
piled  in  pyramids  across  the  battle-plains  of  Asia,  when 
China  herself  went  down,  it  was  Japan  —  valiant  little 
Japan  alone  —  that  defied  and  kept  her  country.  Even 
the  bells  of  Japan  bore  the  inscription,  "  Never  shall  the 
barbarians  invade  the  land." 

Again  and  again  had  the  boys  been  examined  before 
Japanese  tribunals. 

"  Why  did  you  come  to  this  country?  " 

"  For  whales." 

ff  Do  you  eat  whales  ?  " 

"  No,  make  oil  of  them." 

"  I  believe  you  are  spies !  "  Moryama  could  not  under 
stand  such  wild  birds  that  rebelled  against  cages.  More 
and  more  he  attributed  their  efforts  to  escape  to  a  desire 
to  spy  out  the  country. 

Then  poor  Ezra  Goldthwaite,  of  Salem,  Massachusetts, 
only  twenty  years  old,  fell  ill  and  died,  with  the  wind 
and  rain  beating  into  his  cage.  "  We  believe  he  was 
poisoned  by  degrees,"  said  McCoy. 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  spiritedly  retorted  Ranald.  "  It 
is  n't  like  the  Japanese." 

Ezra  had  smuggled  in  a  little  Bible.     "  Take  it  to  my 


A    PARTING   WITH    REGRET  255 

parents  in  Salem,"  were  his  last  words,  "  and  tell  them 
I  died  in  Japan."  Maury,  one  of  the  despondent  Sand 
wich  Islanders,  committed  suicide  by  hanging  himself 
in  his  cage. 

But  the  guards  were  kinder  than  the  officers,  and  little 
by  little,  out  of  their  last  boarded-up  cage,  with  only  a 
hole  large  enough  to  hand  a  cup  of  water  through, 
McCoy  came  to  speak  Japanese,  "  better  even,"  he  said, 
"  than  Moryama  could  speak  English."  In  March  one 
of  the  friendly  guards,  as  a  great  secret,  told  McCoy  of 
McDonald,  and  of  the  war  between  his  country  and 
Mexico. 

"  Your  heads  are  to  be  cut  off,"  said  the  guard,  as  a 
company  of  soldiers  came  in  view  with  a  convict  bound, 

—  poor  Matagert,  the  captain  who  had  taken  his  women 
to  see  Ranald.     In  front  of  their  cage  McCoy  saw  him 
stand  while  the  sentence  was  apparently  read,  then,  just 
out  of  sight,  shortly,  they  heard  a  scream,   and  a  boy 
passed    by,    carrying   the    head    of    a    Japanese    in    his 
hands. 

That  other  castaways  had  been  thrown  on  those  in 
hospitable  shores  was  evident  enough.  In  fact,  it  came 
to  light  that  at  various  times  more  than  thirty  wrecked 
seamen  had  been  rescued  by  the  benevolent  Dutch  Factor 
and  shipped  to  Batavia  on  board  the  annual  Dutch  ship. 
But  no  provisions  or  coal  would  the  Japanese  govern 
ment  sell  to  any  whaler,  not  even  to  Commander  Glynn 
himself.  It  was  time  for  America  to  come  to  Japan. 

Copies  of  the  depositions  of  the  rescued  seamen  handed 
to  Commodore  Geisinger  of  the  American  squadron  were 
quickly  despatched  by  special  ship  to  the  United  States. 
But  while  skidding  along  gay  of  heart  on  the  coast  of 
China,  just  after  leaving  Macao,  a  pestilential  dysentery 

—  incipient   Asiatic   cholera  —  broke   out   on   board   the 
"  Preble,"  increasing  so  rapidly  that  on  arrival  at  Hono 
lulu  thirty-five  of  the  men  were  removed  to  a  hospital 
and  others  died,  the  very  flower  of  the  ship,  in  that  fate 
ful  Summer  of  '49.     Not  until  December  were  a  frag 
ment  of  the  crew  sufficiently  convalescent  to  admit  of  the 
"  Treble's  "  venturing  to  California  with  a  few  men  loaned 


256          MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

from  the  American  squadron.  At  San  Francisco,  as  their 
time  had  expired,  the  sailors  were  discharged,  and,  rush 
ing  into  the  mines,  carried  the  contagion  that  for  the  next 
two  years  scourged  California.  One  of  the  first  to  fall 
was  Colonel  Boone,  a  leader  of  the  Oregon  Argonauts. 

"  Governor  Lilburn  W.  Boggs,  alcalde  of  Sonoma  ?  " 
Scarcely  could  Lieutenant  Bent  wait  to  meet  his  brother- 
in-law,  for  had  not  the  sister  of  Silas  Bent  been  the 
youthful  bride  of  Governor  Boggs  long  before  he  had 
known  Panthea  Boone  or  had  been  called  to  the  chief 
executiveship  of  Missouri?  Many  a  fond  boyhood 
memory  slept  in  that  sister's  grave  by  an  inland  water. 

"  And  so  you  reached  Japan,  Silas  ?  " 

The  two  met  in  a  California  twilight,  and  long  after 
evening  shadows  fell  their  impatient  lips  continued 
narrating  adventures. 

"  And  this  is  for  you,  Governor,  a  Tartar  bow  and 
arrow  from  China."  Bent  snapped  the  sinewy  string  as 
he  passed  it  over.  "  Not  so  different  from  those  of  our 
American  Indians." 

"  And  you  really  found  shipwrecked  Americans  over 
there,  Silas?" 

'  Yes,  and  one  of  them,  Ranald  McDonald,  was  the 
son  of  a  Hudson  Bay  magnate  of  Oregon.  We  rescued 
and  brought  him  away  after  he  had  been  teaching  some 
time  at  Nagasaki.  He  gave  us  much  intelligent  infor 
mation." 

"  And  where  is  he  now  ?  " 

Bent  laughed  and  shook  his  head.  "  A-ship  again, 
a-sea.  A  natural  explorer,  eager  to  dive  into  every  new 
country." 

For  six  months  in  those  exciting  days  of  gold  the 
"  Preble  "  lay  on  the  coast  of  California,  entirely  without 
a  crew,  the  copper  literally  worn  from  her  bottom,  her 
hull,  mainmast,  and  spars  falling  to  decay,  and  not  a  sail 
left  aboard  fit  to  spread  to  a  breeze.  But  when  most  of 
the  officers,  invalided,  were  sent  home  by  way  of  Panama, 
Commander  Glynn  and  Silas  Bent  stayed  by  the  ship. 
In  July,  1850,  she  was  patched  up  and  men  enough  were 
loaned  from  the  Pacific  squadron  to  take  her  around  to 


THE    STIR   AT   WASHINGTON          257 

New  York,  where  she  arrived  on  the  second  day  of  Jan 
uary,  1851,  after  a  cruise  of  four  years  and  four  months. 
Of  the  gallant  one  hundred  and  forty-one  that  sailed  into 
Nagasaki  harbor,  thirty-one  were  known  to  be  dead,  the 
rest  were  discharged  and  scattered. 

Tossing  on  Indian  seas,  Ranald  McDonald,  who  had 
shipped  anew  at  Macao,  thought  often  of  Oregon.  But 
adventure  lured  him  on  to  Bombay,  Calcutta,  Madras, 
to  Javan  ports,  and  Australia. 

Ranald  never  did  learn,  to  the  end  of  his  life,  that  the 
"  George  Howe "  he  heard  so  much  of  in  Japan  was 
really  the  name  of  the  mate  of  the  whaleship  "  Law 
rence,"  of  Poughkeepsie,  New  York,  lost  in  a  gale  on  the 
Japan  Islands,  in  May,  1846.  Most  of  the  men  perished, 
the  survivors  were  imprisoned,  and  one  especially  obstrep 
erous  was  put  to  the  sword.  After  seventeen  months 
of  strict  confinement,  through  the  untiring  exertions  of 
Mr.  John  Levyssohn  the  last  six  of  them,  more  dead 
than  alive,  were  sent  on  the  Dutch  ship  to  the  American 
consul  at  Batavia. 


IX 

THE   STIR  AT  WASHINGTON 

"  TAPAN  has  no  right   to  cut  herself  off  from  the 
community  of  nations,  and  I  tell  you,  if  she  per- 
«^F     sists,  she  shall  be  compelled  to  open  her  gates  in 
the  interest  of  humanity." 

Matthew  Calbraith  Perry,  a  commodore  of  the  Ameri 
can  Navy,  who  as  a  midshipman  had  stood  by  the  side  of 
his  immortal  brother  in  the  Battle  of  the  Lakes  thirty- 
seven  years  before,  had  been  reading  the  depositions  of 
Ranald  McDonald  and  other  American  seamen,  as  re 
corded  by  Commander  Glynn  of  the  "  Preble."  His 

17 


258  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

auditor,  a  young  major  of  engineers,  small  and  spare, 
scarce  reaching  up  to  more  than  the  Commodore's 
shoulder,  was  busy  with  a  scheme  for  the  reorganization 
of  the  American  army.  Laying  aside  his  pen,  a  gleam 
of  light  shot  through  his  eye. 

"  Yes,  the  war  with  Mexico  is  ended,  and  with  it  has 
come  California  by  the  same  treaty.  The  Oregon  bound 
ary  has  been  settled  and  a  new  territory  is  likely  to  be 
set  apart  on  the  shores  of  Puget  Sound.  The  frontier, 
the  protection  of  settlers,  the  extension  of  commerce,  — 
these  are  the  duties  of  the  near  future.  And  that  future 
tends  toward  the  Pacific.  You  are  right,  Commodore, 
there  must  be  direct  trade  with  Asia.  Japan  is  our  next- 
door  neighbor,  we  must  knock  at  her  portals." 

A  man  of  strong  and  generous  impulses,  quick  to  act, 
genial  and  kind,  Major  Stevens  had  hosts  of  friends,  but 
none  closer  than  the  Commodore.  Both  had  come  back 
from  the  Mexican  war  awake  to  the  West  as  never  before, 
both  felt  the  rising  pulse  of  Pacific  enterprise.  Directly 
in  line  with  the  movement  that  acquired  these  territories 
was  the  adventure  of  Ranald  McDonald  into  the  Hermit 
Nation.  The  whaler  had  broken  into  Japan. 

At  that  moment  Mrs.  Stevens  appeared  at  the  door 
with  her  three  young  children,  begging  the  attention  of 
their  father,  the  Major. 

"  Ah,  verily,  Cousin  Margaret,  you  have  a  hopeful 
family  of  which  you  may  well  be  proud,"  remarked  the 
Commodore,  as  he  had  done  a  score  of  times  before, 
beguiling  meanwhile  Hazard  and  little  Sue  into  his  room, 
where  he  always  kept  a  store  of  candy  for  their  especial 
benefit.  For,  though  time  had  touched  his  brow  with  a 
glint  of  silver,  and  he  was  a  grandfather,  youth  and  the 
love  of  children  burned  ever  perennial  in  the  heart  of 
the  majestic  old  Commodore. 

"  It  seems  more  like  home,"  the  Commodore  was  wont 
to  say,  now  that  Major  Stevens  had  brought  hither  his 
handsome  wife,  Margaret  Hazard  Stevens,  once  the  belle 
of  Newport,  where  the  Hazards  and  Perrys  had  lived 
since  Roger  Williams,  the  Quaker,  founded  Rhode  Island. 
And  now,  in  this  Autumn  of  1850,  the  spacious  old  brick 


THE    STIR   AT   WASHINGTON          259 

club-house  opposite  Lafayette  Square  in  the  city  of  Wash 
ington  was  a  hive  of  busy  generals,  senators,  and  mem 
bers  of  Congress,  in  the  midst  of  whom  the  Stevenses  and 
Commodore  Perry  kept  in  touch  with  every  department 
of  national  life. 

"  The  Pacific  Ocean  is  destined  to  become  the  theatre 
of  immense  commercial  undertakings,"  more  and  more 
the  Commodore  realized  as  he  studied  the  navy  reports, 
and  especially  this  affair  of  Commander  Glynn  and  the 
"  Preble  "  in  Japan.  Quietly  he  set  himself  to  investi 
gating  the  whole  situation.  Every  book  obtainable  on 
Japan  was  stacked  in  that  house  on  Lafayette  Square 
until  the  little  Stevens  children  tumbled  over  old  Keamp- 
fer,  Von  Siebold,  and  every  other  Dutchman  that  had 
ever  adventured  in  that  distant  Zipangu. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  muttered  the  Commodore,  deep  and 
deeper  into  his  subject,  "  the  whalers,  the  nurseries  of 
the  American  navy,  are  taking  the  seas.  In  two  wars 
they  have  enabled  the  United  States  to  win  signal  vic 
tories,  in  1812,  and  now  in  Mexico.  No  wonder  America 
has  taken  the  Northern  Pacific,  —  the  Yankee  skipper  is 
there." 

Diving  into  statistics,  Perry  found  that  seventeen  mil 
lions  of  dollars  was  invested  in  whaling  fleets,  and  ten 
thousand  Americans  were  afloat,  —  so  many,  indeed,  that 
in  this  year  1850  the  Japanese  themselves  counted  eighty- 
six  "  black  ships "  passing  the  one  port  of  Matsumai. 
What  Perry  was  studying  out  in  secret  suddenly  burst 
before  the  whole  nation,  when,  the  day  after  New  Year's, 
'51,  the  "  Preble  "  herself  readiest  New  York  after  an 
absence  of  four  years  and  four  months,  in  which  she  had 
taken  news  of  the  Oregon  boundary  settlement  around 
Cape  Horn,  and  visited  every  port  of  importance  in  the 
North  Pacific  and  China  seas. 

The  next  morning  the  New  York  "  Herald  "  spread 
broadcast  the  story  of  the  imprisonment  of  Ranald  Mc 
Donald  and  the  "  Ladoga  "  whalers,  kindling  indignation 
throughout  the  United  States. 

"  Extraordinary  and  barbarous !  "  cried  the  press  of 
the  country.  "  If  they  had  been  pirates  it  could  not  have 


26o  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

been  worse !  "  There  was  a  wonderful  amount  of  talk 
about  the  rights  of  American  seamen,  shipwrecked, 
plundered,  imprisoned,  and  outraged  on  those  coasts. 
Some  were  for  instant  war  and  a  demand  for  explanation. 
'  You  cannot  bully  the  Japanese,"  said  Commodore 
Perry,  in  the  wise  and  conciliatory  manner  that  always 
characterized  him.  "  By  tact  and  kindness,  I  venture  to 
say,  we  can  open  Japan." 

Hastening  at  once  to  Washington,  Commander  Glynn 
set  the  whole  matter  before  President  Fillmore  and 
Daniel  Webster.  Both  the  president  and  his  secretary 
evinced  the  liveliest  interest  in  this  new  question  that 
was  looming  on  the  sunset  horizon.  Already  Commodore 
Perry  had  suggested  an  embassy. 

"  Soon  a  commercial  treaty  between  the  two  countries 
will  be  demanded  by  our  people,"  Commander  Glynn 
reasoned,  "  and  already  a  depot  to  stop  at  in  Japan  is 
absolutely  necessary  for  the  accommodation  of  a  line 
of  steamships  contemplated  to  be  established  between 
California  and  China." 

For  the  Commander  had  been  consulting  with  Messrs. 
Rowland  and  Aspinwall,  whose  Panama  line  was  run 
ning  to  San  Francisco  and  Oregon.  To  them,  in  fact, 
he  himself  had  suggested  the  forging  of  this  last  link 
of  a  commercial  chain  to  circumscribe  the  northern 
hemisphere. 

"  These  arrangements  must  be  effected  soon  or  late," 
went  on  the  Commander ;  "  if  not  peaceably,  then  by 
force.  Besides,  in  the  treatment  of  these  seamen  we 
have  a  good  cause  for  quarrel.  We  ask  for  redress,,  and 
are  willing  to  take  it  out  in  the  facilities  they  can  afford 
for  the  navigation  of  our  steamers.  If  they  will  not 
willingly  come  to  our  terms,  we  can  make  them." 

"  Suggest  a  plan."  Daniel  Webster  was  pleased  with 
the  young  man's  enthusiasm.  "  You  know  we  sent 
Commodore  Biddle  in  1846  and  they  refused  to  receive 
him." 

"  Yes,  and  greatly  to  our  damage.  Even  the  ship 
wrecked  whalers  heard  of  it.  They  were  told  that  the 
year  before,  at  Yedo,  a  common  soldier  knocked  down 


THE    STIR    AT   WASHINGTON          261 

an  American  Commodore,  and  that  the  Americans  had 
taken  no  notice  of  it.  Why,  then,  should  they  take  any 
notice  of  poor  shipwrecked  sailors?  A  letter  from  the 
President  of  the  United  States  should  be  sent  to  Japan 
containing  the  most  positive  assurance  that  we  have  no 
desire  to  interfere  with  the  internal  affairs  of  their  coun 
try  or  religion.  Our  only  object  is  trade,  and  its  neces 
sary  accommodation.  The  bearer  should  be  a  naval 
officer  who  knows  what  a  man-of-war  can  be  made  to 
do  under  any  circumstances." 

"  Submit  in  writing  what  you  would  say,"  said  the 
President,  closing  an  interview  momentous  in  history, 
for  the  brusque  commander  of  a  subordinate  gunboat 
had  aroused  to  action  the  highest  authorities  of  the 
nation. 

A  few  weeks  later  the  intelligent  commander  did  hand 
in  the  substance  of  his  remarks  upon  the  project  of  open 
ing  Japan,  and  the  same  day,  "  in  the  interest  of  com 
merce  and  humanity,"  Daniel  Webster  penned  the  famous 
letter  from  President  Fillmore  to  the  Emperor  of  Japan, 
informing  him  "  that  the  great  countries  of  Oregon  and 
California  are  parts  of  the  United  States,  and  that  from 
these  countries,  which  are  rich  in  golcl  and  silver  and 
precious  stones,  our  steamers  can  reach  the  shores  of 
your  happy  land  in  less  than  twenty  days." 

With  his  old  Commodore  at  the  club-house  on  Lafay 
ette  Square  Commander  Glynn  held  long  conversations, 
detailing  incidents  and  glimpses  that  had  not  appeared 
in  the  naval  report.  Just  then  news  came  of  another 
Japanese  junk  adrift,  picked  up  by  the  captain  of 
the  American  brig  "  Auckland "  and  towed  into  San 
Francisco. 

"  Seventeen  Japanese,"  said  the  senator  from  Cali 
fornia,  "  on  a  return  voyage  from  Yedo  to  Osaka  drifted 
fifty  days  at  sea,  and  now  in  the  harbor  at  the  Golden 
Gate  are  pining  to  return  to  their  own  country.  No 
American  vessel  dare  approach  the  coast  of  Japan  to 
return  them,  so  California  begs  the  department  to  take 
it  up." 

"  This  incident  may  afford  a  favorable  opportunity  for 


262  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

opening  commercial  relations  with  Japan,"  said  Daniel 
Webster  when  he  heard  it. 

So,  castaways  from  America  were  falling  on  the  shores 
of  Japan,  and  Japanese  castaways  were  drifting  to 
America.  Two  nations  were  becoming  acquainted  across 
the  wide  water. 


X 

STEAMING   INTO  YEDO 

THERE  was  a  good  deal  of  talk  when  it  was  found 
that  Commodore  Perry  was  to  be  despatched  to 
Japan.  Some  even  opposed  it  as  an  act  of  in 
vasion  or  conquest,  or  a  crusade  against  a  strange  nation. 
Some  were  for  war,  others  objected  to  a  warlike  demon 
stration  against  an  innocent  people.  All,  however,  agreed 
that  he  had  a  right  to  use  the  harbors  in  stress  of  weather, 
and  to  insist  that  shipwrecked  mariners  should  not  be 
treated  as  pirates.  Others  dwelt  wholly  on  commercial 
relations,  and  officials  of  the  government  itself  said,  "  We 
have  these  ships,  and  we  have  these  men,  and  nothing 
on  earth  for  them  to  do.  They  are  waiting  orders,  we 
are  paying  them  a  larger  compensation  than  is  paid  by 
any  other  nation  in  the  world,  and  they  might  as  well 
go  to  Japan." 

That  settled  it.  Webster  was  sick,  an  accidental  fall 
from  his  horse  had  brought  the  "  Godlike  Daniel  "  to  the 
last  battle  of  life.  He  was  unable  to  write.  Commodore 
Perry,  impatient  of  delay,  asked  permission  to  write  his 
own  instructions.  A  mutual  friend  brought  the  request 
to  the  invalid  secretary. 

"  The  success  of  this  expedition  depends  solely  upon 
whether  it  is  in  the  hands  of  the  right  man,"  whispered 
Daniel  Webster  with  the  old  kindle  in  his  eyes.  "  It 
originated  with  Commodore  Perry,  and  he  of  all  others 
knows  best  how  it  is  to  be  successfully  carried  into  effect. 


STEAMING    INTO    YEDO  263 

And  if  this  be  so,  be  is  the  proper  person  to  draft  his 
instructions.  Let  him  go  to  work,  therefore,  and  prepare 
instructions  for  himself;  let  them  be  very  brief,  and  if 
they  do  not  contain  some  very  objectionable  matter,  he 
may  rest  assured  they  will  not  be  changed."  Half  rising 
in  his  chair,  the  great  statesman  had  spoken  almost  his 
last  immortal  words,  and  then  went  home,  to  die. 

And  so  Commodore  Perry  wrote  his  own  instructions. 
For  months  he  had  been  preparing,  looking  after  ships, 
gathering  information  of  the  whalers  of  New  Bedford, 
calling  upon  manufacturers  and  machinists  for  samples 
of  American  art  and  inventions  to  carry  to  Japan. 

"  A  suggestion  of  which  I  was  the  originator,"  said 
Ranald  McDonald  in  his  old  age,  "  for  had  I  not  noted 
with  what  eagerness  they  examined  every  implement  in 
my  possession  ?  "  In  fact,  Ranald  had  spent  hour  after 
hour  in  setting  forth  to  his  Japanese  auditors  the  won 
ders  of  steam  and  the  miracles  of  the  railroad  and  the 
telegraph. 

"  They  want  to  know  about  these  things,"  he  had  in 
formed  Silas  Bent  and  Commander  Glynn.  And  Bent 
was  daily  with  the  Commodore  now. 

Manufacturers,  inventors,  and  publishers  fell  in  with 
the  novel  idea,  one  firm  especially  manufactured  a  small 
locomotive,  tender,  passenger  car,  and  rails  complete,  to 
be  laid  down  in  Japan ;  another  sent  bundles  of  wires 
and  an  outfit  of  telegraphic  instruments.  Clocks,  watches, 
stoves,  military  arms  of  the  latest  pattern,  muskets,  pis 
tols,  rifles,  swords,  balls  and  cartridges,  samples  of 
furniture,  life-boats,  books,  weights,  measures,  garden 
seeds,  and  agricultural  implements  enough  to  set  up  a 
small  exposition  were  consigned  to  the  indefatigable 
Commodore. 

"And  so  you  are  really  going?"  Major  Stevens 
stopped  in  Washington  to  shake  hands  over  the  election  of 
their  mutual  friend,  Franklin  Pierce,  to  the  Presidency. 
Stevens  had  been  on  the  "  stump  "  for  Pierce. 

"  I  start  immediately,  Major,  on  my  old  Mexican  flag 
ship,"  said  the  Commodore.  "  To-morrow  we  drop  down 
the  Chesapeake." 


264  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

But  yesterday  Commodore  Perry  had  commanded  the 
largest  American  squadron  that  ever  had  entered  the 
Gulf.  A  naval  battery  manned  by  his  pupils  in  gunnery 
had  decided  the  fate  of  Vera  Cruz,  and  the  presence  of 
his  fleet  had  enabled  Scott's  army  to  reach  the  capital. 
And  so  they  parted,  the  Major  to  travel  by  land,  and  the 
Commodore  by  sea,  to  a  new  field  of  fame,  the  Pacific. 
For  scarce  had  the  Commodore  entered  that  distant 
ocean  before  Major  Stevens  became  Surveyor-General 
of  the  Northern  Pacific  Railroad,  Superintendent  of  the 
Northwest  Indians,  and  Governor  of  the  newly  created 
Territory  of  Washington,  writing  his  own  instructions, 
as  Perry  had  done. 

Across  the  world,  far  up  in  the  arms  of  a  land-locked 
bay,  like  Puget  Sea  or  the  Alaskan  Gulf,  lay  Yedo. 

"  From  this  window  I  look  on  Fuji  San 
White  with  the  snows  of  a  thousand  years; 
To  my  gates  ships  will  come  from  the  far  East 
Ten  thousand  miles." 

So  had  the  poetic  founder  of  Yedo  written  on  the 
walls  of  the  summer-house  of  his  castle  before  Columbus 
discovered  America.  Here,  before  Europe  awoke  from 
the  Dark  Ages,  far  out  in  the  Pacific  waste  of  waves, 
classic  Japan  was  revelling  in  her  golden  age  of  letters. 

And  the  ships  were  coming  —  from  the  far  East. 


XI 

THE   BLACK   SHIPS 

FOUR  ships  with  spangled  ensigns  at  their  peaks, 
the  "  Susquehanna  "  bearing  at  her  fore  the  white 
star-marked   broad   pennant   of   the   Commodore, 
with  furled  sails  were  gliding  against  the  wind  toward 
Yedo. 

"  Hark !  "  from  the  distant  headland  a  gun,  where  the 
lone    watcher    on    the    point    of    Idzu    had    sighted    the 


THE    BLACK    SHIPS  265 

stranger.  Taken  up  from  peak  to  peak  inland,  gun  to 
gun  signalled,  —  "  Foreign  ship !  "  "  Foreign  ship !  " 
"  Foreign  ship!"  Japanese  junks  like  Roman  galleys 
with  two  great  eyes  in  the  bows,  sentinels  of  the  sea, 
peered  around  the  headlands  and  broke,  some  to  drop 
sails  and  take  to  oars  bearing  back  the  amazing  news, 
others  to  rush  out  and  head  off  the  barbarians  that  sought 
to  enter  the  sacred  waters.  Fishing  crews  lounging  at 
their  lines  in  the  summer  sea  caught  sight  of  the  swift 
ships  steaming  in,  and  stood  up  to  gaze  and  marvel. 

Like  phantoms  ploughing  before  a  typhoon  they  came 
on,  leaving  behind  a  wake  of  foam.  No  wonder  the 
startled  fishermen  cried  out  and  clapped  their  hands  to 
Buddha,  —  such  an  apparition  on  the  waters  came  not 
even  to  old  Mexico  in  the  days  of  Cortez.  "  To  Yedo, 
oh,  not  to  Yedo,  the  city  of  the  Gods !  "  No  wonder 
their  eyes  widened  in  astonishment  as  they  snatched  their 
sculls  to  get  out  of  the  way.  With  crews  at  quarters, 
guns  shotted,  and  decks  cleared  for  action,  like  beings  of 
life,  independent  of  wind  or  wave,  prepared  for  battle 
the  mammoth  steamships  swept  them  by  and  glided  in 
opposite  the  little  town  of  Uraga,  where  sixteen  years 
before  the  "  Morrison  "  with  the  Vancouver  waifs  had 
been  fired  on  and  driven  back. 

"  Boom !  "  another  gun,  a  puff  of  smoke,  and  a  rocket 
in  the  air  drifting  like  a  pillar  of  cloud  toward  Yedo. 
Then,  in  a  swarm,  troops  of  guard-boats  slipped  out  from 
shore. 

"  Let  no  one  be  received  except  at  my  flagship,"  sig 
nalled  Commodore  Perry  to  the  fleet. 

Nearer,  nearer,  officers  of  rank'  were  discerned  stand 
ing  in  the  high-prowed  boats,  with  swords  at  their  sides 
and  white  lacquered  hats  screening  their  shaved  heads 
from  the  July  sun.  Alongside  the  flagship  one  waved  a 
notice,  but  the  stately  steamer  passed  on.  To  the  "  Mis 
sissippi,"  the  "  Plymouth,"  and  the  "  Saratoga  "  other 
yakunins  frantically  held  up  warning  banners  in  Dutch, 
French,  English : 

"  Approach  at  your  peril.  Go  back.  Remain  at  sea. 
Send  word  why  you  came  and  what  you  want." 


266  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"Let  down  your  gangway  ladder,"  signalled  the 
chief  functionary  with  an  imperious  gesture  at  the 
"  Mississippi." 

"  No  one  can  be  received  except  at  the  flagship."  All 
hands  pointed  to  the  white  star  on  the  Commodore's 
pennant. 

Exasperated  at  the  delay,  the  fiery  little  Japanese 
sculled  thither. 

"  Down  your  ladder."  The  "  Susquehanna "  was 
slowing. 

"  None  but  an  officer  of  the  first  rank  can  be  re 
ceived  here,"  answered  the  Commodore's  interpreter,  Mr. 
Portman,  a  Hollander,  over  the  ship's  side. 

"  Naru  hodo!  Do  I  hear  aright  ?  "  The  pompous  little 
official  could  scarce  believe  his  ears.  At  Uraga,  too,  the 
port  of  entry  beyond  which  no  foreign  ship  had  passed 
in  two  hundred  and  fifty  years ! 

"  I  can  speak  Dutch,"  in  very  good  English  piped  up 
an  interpreter  at  his  side,  none  other  than  Hori  Tat- 
sonoske,  the  pupil  of  Ranald  McDonald.  "  Do  your  ships 
come  from  America?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  thought  so,"  rejoined  Tatsonoske  as  if  he  had  been 
expecting  them.  "  Let  us  come  on  board." 

"  No,"  answered  Mr.  Portman,  "  the  Commander  of 
this  squadron  is  of  the  highest  rank  in  the  United  States, 
and  can  confer  only  with  the  highest  in  rank  at  this  place. 
He  is  a  Commodore." 

"  Indeed !  Is  it  possible !  "  ejaculated  the  now  deeply 
impressed  Japanese. 

'  The  Vice-Governor  of  Uraga  is  in  the  boat,"  at 
length  ventured  Tatsonoske. 

:'  Why  does  not  the  Governor  himself  come?  "  inquired 
the  interpreter. 

"  He  is  prevented  by  law  from  going  on  board  ships 
in  the  roads.  Cannot  the  Commodore  appoint  one  of 
corresponding  rank  to  confer  with  the  Vice-Governor  ?  " 

Commodore  Perry,  out  of  sight,  mysterious  as  the 
Mikado  himself,  gave  permission,  and  up  the  gangway 
ladder  scrambled  the  Vice-Governor  and  Hori  Tatsonoske, 


THE    BLACK    SHIPS  267 

sinking  on  their  knees,  touching  their  foreheads  to  the 
deck  after  the  fashion  of  Japan.  Scarce  could  the  Ameri 
can  officers  forbear  a  smile  at  sight  of  the  bare  little  brown 
legs  under  the  stiff  wide  pantalets  of  the  Japanese. 

Still  prone  to  the  deck  the  Vice-Governor  raised  his 
head  and  offered  a  scroll  in  Dutch  and  Japanese: 

"  Who  are  you  ?  what  do  you  want  ?  do  not  presume 
to  anchor.  Return  to  the  place  from  which  you  came. 
Act  otherwise  at  your  peril." 

"  Too  late,  the  ships  have  anchored."  Lieutenant 
Contee  with  a  smile  pointed  to  the  "  Susquehanna's " 
chain,  clanking  through  the  hawse.  "  I  bid  you  rise." 
With  astonishing  agility  the  Japanese  came  to  their  feet, 
eyeing  askance  a  monster  gun  pointing  shoreward. 

'  The  Commodore  has  been  sent  by  his  country  on  a 
friendly  mission  to  Japan,"  vouchsafed  Captain  Buchanan 
of  the  flagship.  "  He  has  brought  a  letter  from  the 
President  of  the  United  States  addressed  to  the  Emperor 
of  Japan,  and  he  wishes  a  suitable  officer  sent  on  board 
ship  to  receive  a  copy  of  it,  in  order  that  a  day  may  be 
appointed  for  the  Commodore  formally  to  deliver  the 
original." 

"  Oh,  no !  According  to  the  law  of  Japan,  Nagasaki 
is  the  only  place  for  negotiating  foreign  business.  It 
will  be  necessary  for  the  squadron  to  go  there,"  the 
Vice-Governor  assured  him. 

"  No,  the  Commodore  has  come  purposely  to  Uraga 
because  it  is  near  to  Yedo;  he  will  not  go  to  Nagasaki. 
It  would  be  insulting  to  the  President  and  to  the  Com 
modore  to  propose  it.  The  letter  must  be  duly  and 
properly  received  here,  where  we'  now  are.  The  Com 
modore's  intentions  are  friendly  but  he  will  allow  no  in 
dignity.  Your  people  must  not  communicate  with  any 
other  vessel  than  the  flagship,  and  those  armed  guard- 
boats  collecting  around  the  ships  must  be  immediately 
removed  or  the  Commodore  will  fire  into  them." 

"Fire  into  them?" 

As  soon  as  Tatsonoske  made  this  clear,  the  Vice- 
Governor  suddenly  left  his  seat,  went  to  the  gangway 
and  ordered  most  of  the  boats  ashore.  But  a  few  tarried. 


268  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

At  this  a  display  of  arms  over  the  ship's  side  caused 
them  to  scatter  like  chickens  before  a  hawk,  and  no  more 
of  them  ever  came  around  the  squadron. 

"  One  point  gained,"  said  the  Commodore  when  this 
was  reported. 

The  Vice-Governor  had  departed  with  a  promise  that 
a  higher  officer  would  come  in  the  morning. 

"  I  shall  assume  a  resolute  attitude  toward  the  Japa 
nese  government,"  commented  the  Commodore  as  he 
watched  the  little  brown  men  scurrying  away.  "  Before 
reaching  the  coast  I  determined  to  demand  as  a  right 
those  acts  of  courtesy  which  are  due  from  one  civilized 
nation  to  another.  Nor  will  I  allow  any  petty  acts  of 
annoyance  which  in  the  least  conflict  with  what  is  due 
the  dignity  of  the  American  flag." 

At  that  moment  another  gun  rang  over  the  headlands 
and  another  rocket  darkened  the  sky  above  Fujiyama,  a 
snow  peak  against  the  sunset  sixty  miles  away. 


XII 

A  NAVAL  DEMONSTRATION 

THERE  was  no  sleep  in  Yedo  that  night.  "  Black 
ships !  "  the  sentinel  in  the  'drum  tower  toiled  at 
his  clangor;  the  laborer  forgot  his  hooda-haidah 
call,  and  the  night  boatman  hushed  his  monotonous  chant. 
"  The  hairy  barbarians  have  come  to  take  the  country," 
whispered  one  to  another  in  awed  voice  while  still  rockets 
signalled,  bells  tolled,  and  beacon  fires  kindled  the  hill 
tops  with  weird  and  fitful  glare.  Terrified  women  hid 
their  children,  or  bore  them  hurriedly  out  of  the  city  along 
roads  thronged  with  fleeing  multitudes.  There  was  a 
tramp  of  warhorses  and  a  clang  of  weapons,  as  soldier- 
samurai  laced  on  their  ancient  armor,  and  scoured  their 
rusting  spears 

The   nine   o'clock   gun   of   the   flagship,   a   sixty-four 
pounder,  reverberated  over  the  hills  to  Yedo,  —  instantly 


A    NAVAL    DEMONSTRATION  269 

every  beacon  fire  was  extinguished.  Cries  might  have 
been  heard  in  the  darkness,  and  prayers,  and  the  steady 
boom  of  temple  bells.  About  four  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing  a  meteor  appeared  from  the  south  and  westward, 
illuminating  the  whole  heavens  until  the  dreaded  fire 
ships  of  the  barbarians  burned  in  blue,  with  spar  and  sail 
and  hull  agleam  along  the  water.  Northeastwardly  the 
sphere  of  fire  advanced,  followed  by  its  crimson  trailing 
tail  of  flame  until  it  disappeared  in  the  sea. 

"  The  ancients  would  have  construed  this  remarkable 
appearance  of  the  heavens  as  a  favorable  omen  for  any 
enterprise  they  had  undertaken,"  said  the  Commodore 
when  the  night  watch  told  it. 

But  Japan  was  hysterical  with  terror.  All  that  never- 
to-be-forgotten  night  sleepless  eyes  were  watching  for 
they  knew  not  what  phenomena  of  heaven  or  earth,  as 
couriers  on  horseback  and  on  foot  hurried  inland  to  the 
Shinto  priests  with  orders  from  the  imperial  court, 
"  Pray,  pray  for  the  sweeping  away  of  the  barbarians." 
For  did  not  the  prayers  of  the  devout  destroy  the  armada 
of  Kublai  Khan  and  the  Mongol  Tartars? 

Whole  villages  flocked  to  neglected  shrines,  feverishly 
counting  their  beads  for  deliverance.  Daylight  found 
ten  thousand  soldiers  on  the  hills  around  Yedo,  and  at 
daylight,  too,  Commodore  Perry  despatched  Lieutenant 
Silas  Bent  with  four  well-armed  cutters  from  the  squad 
ron  to  survey  the  bay  and  harbor  of  Uraga. 

"  Do  not  go  beyond  the  range  of  the  ship's  guns.  A 
good  lookout  will  be  kept  upon  you,  in  order  that  help 
may  be  sent  in  case  of  an  attack,"  said  the  Commodore. 

With  glass  and  telescope  the  fleet  watched;  innumer 
able  villages  and  forts  appeared  along  the  shore  with  a 
few  old-fashioned  cannon,  and  some  without  cannon, 
and  companies  of  soldiers  in  glittering  caps  and  shields, 
deploying  in  the  light  of  the  rising  sun.  One  of  those 
scarlet-coated  young  Japanese  wrote  a  letter  to  his 
mother : 

"  I  arrived  at  Uraga  last  night.  Early  this  morning  I  ascended 
a  hill  and  saw  the  foreign  vessels.  They  are,  indeed,  marvellous. 
There  were  four  of  them,  two  of  which  were  steamers.  They  were 


270  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

propelled  by  the  force  of  fire  and  could  sail  against  the  wind.  The 
vessels  came  into  the  harbor  with  the  speed  of  an  arrow.  .  .  .  They 
are  very  great  in  size.  A  Japanese  boat  sailing  around  a  steamer 
resembles  a  clam-shell  placed  beside  a  washing  tub.  It  is  there 
fore  quite  futile,  as  I  have  insisted,  to  go  to  war  with  them  unless 
we  have  large  vessels  and  many  guns  like  them.  The  foreign  ves 
sels  dropped  a  rope  in  the  water  and  examined  its  depth." 

Almost  in  time  for  an  early  breakfast,  Governor 
Yezaimon  of  Uraga,  and  Hori  Tatsonoske,  his  inter 
preter,  came  tumbling  over  the  "  Susquehanna's  "  side, 
bouncing  like  rubber  balls  in  their  supple  salutations  to 
the  deck.  Despite  the  swords  in  their  girdles,  dainty 
as  women  they  seemed,  in  silken  robes,  with  spangled 
fans,  long  hair  skewered  up  with  silver  pins,  and  neat, 
close-fitting  white  foot-gloves  upon  their  delicate  feet. 
Groups  of  officers  gathered  to  receive  them,  all  except 
the  Commodore,  sweltering  collarless  and  in  shirt-sleeves 
at  his  desk  in  his  cabin  in  the  hot  July  weather,  resolved 
to  out-Mikado  the  Mikado  himself  as  a  stickler  for  honor 
and  precedence  for  the  United  States.  No  one  yet  had 
arrived  of  rank  sufficient  to  meet  the  Ambassador  of 
the  President  to  His  Majesty,  the  Emperor  of  Japan. 
"  Nothing  less  than  a  Prince,"  demanded  the  Commodore. 

"  A-ara-a-ah !  indeed,  is  it  possible  ?  "  mused  the  Gov 
ernor,  with  a  little  sibilant  sucking  of  the  breath.  For 
some  time  he  was  silent,  then,  suddenly  lifting  his  head, 
"  Yonder  boats,  what  are  they  doing?  "  The  finger  from 
his  flowing  sleeve,  slender  as  a  girl's,  pointed. 

"  Surveying  the  harbor,"  replied  Lieutenant  Contee, 
taking  a  squint  through  his  glass  at  the  boats  far  up 
the  shore. 

"  It  is  against  the  Japanese  law  to  permit  such  examina 
tion,"  insisted  the  Governor,  while  Tatsonoske  rapidly 
kept  tally  of  his  master's  questions  with  a  writing  brush. 
"  I  command  them  to  desist." 

"  Our  American  laws  command  us  to  survey  lest  we 
endanger  our  ships,  and  we  Americans  are  as  much 
bound  to  obey  the  American  law  as  you  are  to  obey  the 
Japanese  law,"  explained  the  Lieutenant  with  a  winning 
smile. 


A   NAVAL    DEMONSTRATION  271 

At  that,  Yezaimon,  too,  unbent  and  laughed.  All  voted 
the  Governor  a  good  fellow  and  plucky  when  cakes  and 
champagne  were  served.  The  wine  almost  choked  His 
Excellency,  unaccustomed  to  such  a  beverage,  but  even  as 
he  coughed  and  reddened,  he  considerately  relieved  the 
apprehensions  of  the  Americans  by  asking  for  more. 

"When  can  the  President's  letter  be  delivered?" 
again  urged  Captain  Buchanan,  exhibiting  the  magnificent 
golden  case  containing  the  document. 

"  Impossible  to  receive  a  foreign  letter  at  Uraga," 
apologized  the  Governor,  "  and  even  if  it  were  possible, 
the  answer  would  be  sent  to  Nagasaki.  The  squadron 
must  go  to  Nagasaki." 

"  But  the  Commodore  will  not  go  to  Nagasaki.  How 
long  will  it  take  you  to  hear  from  Yedo?  " 

"  Four  days,"  answered  the  Governor,  still  fascinated 
by  the  mysterious  imperial  box.  "  An  express  will  be 
sent  to  the  capital  immediately." 

"  Four  days,  when  the  squadron  can  sail  up  to  Yedo 
in  an  hour  ?  " 

"  Will  you  go  to  Yedo?  "  The  Governor  was  plainly 
alarmed.  Then  bethinking  himself,  for  the  first  time, 
"  Do  you  need  provisions  and  water  ?  " 

"  No,  thanks,  we  have  everything.  The  Commodore 
will  wait  until  Tuesday  and  no  longer.  If  an  answer  is 
not  here  by  that  time  he  will  proceed  directly  to  Yedo. 
No  further  discussion  will  be  necessary." 

Finding  himself  thus  politely  bowed  out  of  the  ship, 
the  Governor  retired,  pleased,  yet  terrified  by  the  "  hairy 
barbarians,"  such  monsters,  so  tall,  so  terrible,  outland 
ish,  who  even  threatened  to  go  up  fo  Yedo,  along  whose 
sacred  jetties  no  foreign  ship  had  ever  anchored  in  all 
the  years  since  its  foundation. 

"  A  second  and  most  important  point  gained,"  said  the 
Commodore,  when  the  survey  boats  came  in  that  night. 
"Were  you  disturbed.  Lieutenant?" 

"  The  Japanese  soldiers  beckoned  us  to  keep  off," 
answered  Lieutenant  Bent.  "  I  simply  made  a  sign  show 
ing  in  what  direction  we  were  going  and  kept  on.  Ap 
parently  their  intention  was  to  intercept  us,  for  a  fleet 


272  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

of  government  boats  with  armed  men  put  out  ahead. 
Trailing  oars,  long  enough  to  put  caps  on  our  carbines, 
we  pushed  on  and  they  fell  back." 

Again  that  night  the  deep-toned  bronze  Buddha  gong 
sounded  until  morning,  boom  after  boom  over  land  and 
sea.  Now  and  then  a  gun  reverberated  in  the  distant 
hills.  In  the  white  light  of  Sunday  sunrise  Fujiyama 
smiled  on  the  bay,  and  along  shore,  thousands  of  men 
and  women  and  children,  like  busy  ants,  might  be  seen 
Bringing  earth  and  toiling  at  breastworks  in  front  of  the 
fleet.  But  hark !  from  shipboard  rolled  out  a  Sabbath 
hymn  with  band  accompaniment : 

"  Before  Jehovah's  awful  throne, 

Ye  nations  bow,  with  sacred  joy: 

Know  that  the  Lord  is  God  alone ; 

He  can  create,  and  He  destroy." 

Fascinated,  the  toilers  paused,  and  looked,  and  listened. 
Could  this  be  a  warlike  demonstration  of  the  American 
battleships?  Attracted  by  the  melody,  four  noblemen 
donned  their  silken  robes  and  were  swiftly  sculled  to  the 
"  Susquehanna." 

"  No,"  —  the  visit  was  politely  declined,  —  "  you  can 
not  be  received  to-day,  this  is  the  Christian  Sabbath." 

"  Christians  ?  "  against  whom  proscriptions  were  set 
up  all  over  Japan!  "Is  it  possible?"  exclaimed  the 
Japanese  with  new  wonder. 

On  Monday  morning  the  "  Mississippi  "  steamed  up 
toward  Yedo.  Hurriedly  the  alarmed  Governor  of 
Uraga  came  out  to  say  that  the  President's  letter  could 
be  received  right  there,  at  Knrihama,  two  miles  south  of 
the  anchorage,  a  concession  without  precedent  in  Japanese 
history.  Russian  ships  had  lain  outside  six  months  with 
out  reception;  France  and  England  had  been  turned 
back. 

"  Score  point  number  three,"  said  the  Commodore, 
surprised  himself  at  this  prompt  accommodation. 


THE    PRESIDENT'S   LETTER  273 


XIII 

THE   PRESIDENT'S  LETTER 

THE  day  had  come  to  set  foot  in  Japan. 
The  Commodore !    Thirteen  guns  of  the  "  Sus- 
quehanna  "  thundered.     With  the  fleet  drawn  up, 
guns  primed  and  pointed  for  action  in  case  of  treachery, 
accompanied  by  a  body-guard  of  three  hundred  marines 
the  Commodore  stepped  into  his  barge. 

"  In  countless  numbers,  the  barbarians,"  ran  the 
shudder  up  shore  when  two  brass  bands  crashed  into  a 
volley  that  made  the  Japanese  horses  stand  on  end, 
and  the  Mikado's  diminutive  people  rise  on  tiptoe  to 
catch  sight  of  the  advancing  Ambassador  from  another 
hemisphere. 

Head  and  shoulders  above  most  of  his  own  men 
marched  the  Commodore,  up  through  the  double  line 
of  blue-coats  that  parted  to  let  him  pass,  —  portly, 
smooth-shaven,  dignified.  "  Ten  feet  -high,  with  ships 
a  hundred,  and  an  army,"  was  the  story  long  told  in 
Japanese  households.  With  a  single  sweep  of  his  eye 
Commodore  Perry  took  in  the  mediaeval  outfit,  spears, 
swords,  matchlocks,  all  the  pomp  of  heraldry,  tasselled 
emblems,  flags,  banners  and  pennons  of  scarlet  sweep 
ing  the  ground  with  flowing  length.  How  could  he 
know  that  eager  students  secretly  studying  Dutch  and 
English  books  at  peril  of  their  lives  were  in  that  frowning 
Japanese  army  ?  How  could  they  know  that  that  spangled 
banner  of  the  black  ships  was  a  herald  of  their  own 
future  ? 

"  Toda-Idzu-no-Kami  —  Toda,  the  Prince  of  Idzu," 
and  "  Ito-Iwami-no-Kami,  Ito,  Prince  of  Iwami,"  an 
nounced  Tatsonoske  in  one  long  sing-song,  prostrating 
himself  before  the  clais  on  which  sat  these  daimios  of  old 
Japan,  resplendent  in  gold  brocade  and  gauzy  wings. 

18 


274  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Imperturbably  grave  as  North  American  Indians,  the 
high  functionaries  of  the  Japanese  government  arose  and 
bowed  as  the  Commodore  and  his  suite  of  officers  ad 
vanced  up  the  carpeted  pavilion,  silent  as  a  tomb,  save 
for  the  silken  rustle  of  curtains  and  the  sibilant  breathing 
of  the  Japanese.  The  Commodore  and  his  associates 
bowed,  but  no  one  knelt,  not  one  dreamed  of  touching 
the  carpet  with  his  forehead  as  did  all  the  Japanese, 
even  Yezaimon,  the  Governor.  Seating  themselves,  the 
Americans  waited. 

Tatsonoske  broke  the  silence,  which  had  grown 
oppressive : 

"  Are  the  letters  ready  for  delivery?  The  Prince  of 
Idzu  is  ready  to  receive  them,"  pointing  to  the  imperial 
letter-box  wherein  they  might  be  deposited. 

At  a  signal  from  the  Commodore  two  boys  came  for 
ward  bearing  the  precious  documents  wrapped  in  scarlet ; 
immediately  behind  them,  two  stalwart  negroes  followed, 
the  first  black  men  ever  seen  in  Japan,  armed  to  the 
teeth,  apparently  guardians  of  the  President's  message. 
Gracefully  opening  the  bejewelled  box,  revealing  the 
august  writing  inscribed  on  vellum,  bound  with  blue 
velvet  and  stamped  with  seals  of  gold,  with  low  obei 
sance  the  Africans  deposited  them  on  the  receptacle  of 
state.  Formal  as  statues  the  princes  received  the  message, 
and  Commodore  Perry's  credentials,  handing  over  the 
imperial  receipt: 

"  As  it  has  been  observed  that  the  Admiral,  in  his  quality  of 
Ambassador  of  the  President,  would  feel  himself  insulted  by  a  re 
fusal  to  receive  the  letter  at  this  place,  the  justice  of  which  has 
been  acknowledged,  the  above-mentioned  letter  is  hereby  received 
in  opposition  to  the  Japanese  law. 

11  Therefore  as  the  letter  has  been  received,  you  can  depart." 

"  To  return  next  Spring,  in  April  or  May,"  said  the 
Commodore. 

"  With  all  four  vessels?  "  quickly  inquired  Tatsonoske. 

"  All  of  them  and  probably  more,"  answered  the 
Commodore.  "  This  is  only  a  portion  of  the  squadron." 

"  There   is   nothing   more   to  be   done,"  —  Yezaimon 


THE    PRESIDENT'S    LETTER  275 

and  Tatsonoske  arose  from  their  knees  with  a  movement 
to  depart. 

The  whole  interview  had  not  occupied  thirty  minutes. 
But  as  two  gigantic  seamen,  selected  from  the  entire 
squadron  on  account  of  their  size,  bore  away  the  Ameri 
can  flag  and  the  Commodore's  pennant,  followed  by  the 
spirited  bands  playing  "  Hail  Columbia  "  and  "  Yankee 
Doodle,"  Commodore  Perry  confidently  felt  that  an 
opening  had  been  made  into  Japan.  Sixty  or  seventy 
Japanese  government  boats  flanked  the  landing,  and  a 
formidable  front  of  Japanese  soldiers  crowded  down 
with  spears  and  matchlocks  close  on  either  side  of  the 
tall,  blue-coated  officers  and  marines  conducting  the 
Commodore  back  to  his  ship. 

"  See !  "  gestured  Yezaimon  and  Tatsonoske,  noting 
with  quick  eye  the  howitzers  in  boats  alongside  in  readi 
ness  to  be  despatched  at  a  moment's  notice  in  case  any 
trouble  had  arisen  on  land.  Captain  Buchanan  bowed, 
a  hint  of  which  no  people  could  quicker  grasp  the  import. 

Accompanying  the  Americans  on  shipboard,  Governor 
Yezaimon  began  minutely  to  observe  the  engines  in 
motion,  inspecting  every  part  with  intelligence  that 
seemed  at  once  to  grasp  the  mystery  of  steam.  At 
the  same  time  several  artists  made  rapid  sketches  of  the 
machinery,  while  reporters  recorded  minutely  every  word 
of  explanation. 

"  Do  you  not  use  an  engine  like  this,  only  smaller,  on 
your  American  roads  ? "  inquired  Tatsonoske,  writing 
rapidly  as  he  spoke. 

'*  Yes,"  Captain  Buchanan  made  reply,  for  again  the 
Commodore  was  invisible.  All  that  morning  Yezaimon 
had  furtively  eyed  the  ambassador  of  the  United  States 
as  one  of  a  superior  order  of  humanity;  and  well  the 
handsome  old  Commodore  deserved  the  compliment. 

"By  whom  were  steamers  invented,  and  where?" 
asked  Yezaimon. 

"  In  New  York,  by  an  American  named  Robert 
Fulton." 

"Where  is  New  York?" 

Tatsonoske  knew,  when  a  terrestrial  globe  was  placed 


276  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

before  them;  thanks  to  the  school-days  with  Ranald 
McDonald,  he  could  point  out  New  York  and  Washing 
ton,  as  well  as  England,  France,  Mexico,  and  other 
countries  of  America  and  Europe. 

"  Are  not  many  of  your  roads  cut  through  the 
mountains?  " 

:<  Yes,"  Buchanan  admitted,  thinking  of  tunnels,  but 
Tatsonoske  may  have  had  in  mind  the  transcontinental 
line  across  the  Rockies  that  had  so  often  been  mentioned 
in  the  conversations  of  Ranald  McDonald. 

"  Is  the  canal  across  the  isthmus  yet  finished  ?  " 

"  A  Panama  railroad  is  in  process  of  construction,  if 
that  is  what  you  mean." 

"  Will  not  that  connect  the  two  oceans  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  How  many  miles  an  hour  can  you  make  with  your 
steam-engine?  " 

In  volleys  the  questions  came,  and  as  rapidly  the 
answers  were  noted  down. 

Although  crowds  of  seamen  stood  around,  eager  to 
obtain  a  glimpse  of  the  Japanese,  with  utmost  composure 
as  if  utterly  unaware  of  their  presence  the  eager  little 
brown  men  went  on  quizzing,  questioning,  and  inspecting 
every  arrangement  of  the  vessel,  the  big  guns,  the  small 
arms,  even  the  revolvers  in  the  belts  of  the  captains. 
Raising  his  six-shooter,  Captain  Buchanan  fired  a  suc 
cession  of  shots  that  astonished  his  guests.  At  that 
moment  a  shrill  blast  of  the  whistle  startled  them 
even  more  than  the  six-shooter  had  done,  —  already 
the  steamers  were  off  Uraga,  the  landing-place  of  the 
Japanese.  With  reluctance  Governor  Yezaimon  and  his 
party  disembarked,  and  turned  to  watch  the  four  ships 
in  formidable  array  advancing,  not  back  to  their  old 
anchorage  as  had  been  expected,  but,  up,  up  toward 
Yedo!  With  survey  boats  out  sounding  their  course, 
the  fleet  was  examining  the  waters  and  the  magnificent 
shores. 

"  Elegant  in  manner,  amiable  and  well  bred,  these 
Japanese  are  as  perfect  gentlemen  as  can  be  found  in  any 
part  of  the  world,"  agreed  the  American  officers,  some 


THE    PRESIDENTS   LETTER  277 

of  whom  had  been  examining  the  swords  that  had  been 
deposited  in  the  cabin  during  their  inspection  of  the 
ship.  The  glistening  sharkskin  scabbards,  the  inwrought 
hilts,  the  blades  of  tempered  steel,  finer  than  Damascus, 
suggested  faintly  what  in  practised  hands  those  shafts 
might  do. 

"  And  outside  of  England  nothing  so  green,  so  garden- 
like,  so  full  of  tranquil  beauty  as  their  country!"  ex 
claimed  Bayard  Taylor  of  the  party,  gazing  upon  terraced 
lawns  of  century-old  cultivation.  "  According  to  the 
charts  and  the  best  description  of  Yedo,  this  must  be 
in  the  direction  of  the  capital." 

"  Consternation !    Go  they  to  Yedo  ?  " 

Yezaimon,  anxiously  watching  and  following  up  along 
shore,  could  endure  it  no  longer.  Jumping  into  a  gov 
ernment  boat  with  his  interpreters,  soon  his  oarsmen 
were  sculling  with  all  their  might  back  toward  the 
"  Susquehanna." 

"  Why  your  ships  anchor  here?  "  burst  out  Tatsonoske 
with  evident  excitement,  as  they  dashed  alongside  and 
hurried  up  the  companion-way  to  the  cabin. 

'  The  ships  have  advanced  up  the  bay  to  obtain  a  more 
secure  anchorage,"  politely  explained  the  captains  in 
waiting. 

"  But  this  part  of  Japanese  waters  has  always  hitherto 
been  respected  by  strangers,  and  your  squadron  must  not 
go  any  farther.  Does  the  Commodore  intend  to  go 
beyond?  If  not,  how  long  does  he  intend  to  remain 
where  he  is?  " 

:e  The  Commodore  intends  to  remain  three  or  four  days 
longer  for  the  purpose  of  finding, a  good  anchorage.  As 
he  is  to  return  in  the  Spring  with  many  more  ships  and 
men  he  must  have  a  secure  place  to  moor  his  vessels," 
replied  Captain  Buchanan.  "  Uraga  has  been  tried  and 
found  to  be  insecure ;  the  water  is  rough,  and  the  winds 
blow  there  occasionally  with  great  force." 

"  If  your  survey  boats  approach  any  nearer  the  land 
there  will  be  trouble,"  threatened  Yezaimon,  the  Governor. 

"  Why!  Indeed?  "  urged  Captain  Buchanan  with  well- 
feigned  surprise.  "  It  is  our  custom  in  the  United  States 


278          MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

to  afford  every  facility  to  foreigners  for  anchorage.  If 
you  of  Japan  come  to  the  United  States  you  will  find  the 
navigable  waters  of  the  country  free  to  you.  You  will 
not  be  debarred  even  from  the  rich  gold  fields  of 
California." 

Amazed  at  such  a  country  Yezaimon  pushed  his  de 
mands  no  further,  and  a  moment  later  accepted  an  invi 
tation  to  dine.  Another  boatload  of  anxious  officials  by 
this  time  at  hand  also  shared  in  the  hospitalities  of  the 
ship.  Disposed  to  be  sociable  notwithstanding  their  irri 
tation,  the  Japanese  partook  freely  and  gayly  of  the 
foreigners'  collation  of  ham,  ship-biscuit,  and  pickled 
tongue,  tucking  away  their  big  sleeves  full  at  the  close 
"  in  compliment  to  the  honorable  banquet." 

But  the  champagne  proved  "  better  even  than  honorable 
sake,"  according  to  Yezaimon,  sipping  still  at  his  glass. 

"  Behold  His  Highness !  "  laughed  Tatsonoske,  point 
ing  to  the  Governor.  "  See !  too  much  already,  his  face 
is  growing  red !  "  And  as  evening  drew  on,  with  many 
bows  and  courteous  expressions,  the  Governor  and  his 
suite  withdrew  without  another  word  concerning  the 
survey. 

"  Conquered  by  kindness,"  said  the  Commodore,  de 
spatching  at  daylight  still  another  party  farther  up  the 
bay.  Crowds  gathered  to  watch  them,  the  common 
people  greeting  the  boats  with  every  indication  of  wel 
come,  men  and  women  and  children  coming  down  to  the 
shore  with  friendly  salutations,  bringing  cool  spring 
water  for  them  to  drink,  and  ripe  peaches  from  their 
gardens.  Lieutenant  Silas  Bent,  whose  grandfather  com 
manded  the  party  that  threw  British  tea  overboard  in 
Boston  Harbor  eighty  years  before,  now  led  the  first 
hydrographic  survey  up  into  the  Bay  of  Yedo. 

The  captains  even  of  the  government  boats  detailed  to 
watch  the  surveyors  came  over  and  invited  the  Americans 
on  board,  entertaining  them  with  a  pipe  or  two  of  tobacco. 
In  the  midst  of  this  friendly  intercourse,  while  the  Jap 
anese  were  eagerly  examining  the  clothing,  watches, 
chains,  and  other  trinkets  of  the  "  hairy  barbarians,"  and 
especially  delighting  in  revolver  exhibitions,  a  severe  land 


THE    PRESIDENT'S    LETTER  279 

official  might  have  been  seen  coming  down,  beckoning. 
Like  children  caught  in  some  awful  disobedience  the 
guard-boats  quickly  scattered. 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon  the  Commodore  himself 
transferred  his  pennant  from  the  "  Susquehanna  "  to  the 
"  Mississippi,"  and  explored  some  ten  miles  farther  up, 
until  the  port  of  Yedo  was  distinctly  visible.  Apprehen 
sive  then  of  creating  too  much  alarm,  he  put  back  to 
find  Yezaimon  alongside  the  "  Susquehanna  "  with  a  few 
souvenirs  of  his  visit. 

"  Tell  him,"  said  the  Commodore,  "  that  his  presents 
cannot  be  received  unless  he  will  accept  some  from  us." 

"  Oh,  no,  that  is  forbidden  by  law  and  may  subject 
us  to  the  clanger  of  losing  our  lives,"  said  Yezaimon. 
"  Besides,  yours  are  too  valuable." 

"  Very  well,  then,"  returned  the  Commodore,  "  tell 
him  that  American  laws  enjoin  a  reciprocity.  In  no  other 
way  can  gifts  be  received." 

Again  as  always  the  Governor  yielded  when  he  saw 
that  his  fans,  silks,  pipes,  and  teacups  were  about  to  be 
tumbled  back  into  his  boat. 

"  Perhaps  we  may  take  what  we  can  conceal  about  our 
persons,"  suggested  Yezaimon. 

"  No,"  firmly  insisted  the  Commodore,  "  unless  he  can 
receive  our  gifts  openly  there  can  be  no  exchange." 

At  length,  hesitatingly,  Yezaimon  bore  away  some 
American  maps,  engravings,  and  other  things,  but  left 
the  arms.  *'*  In  no  case  can  we  give  or  receive  arms," 
he  said. 

Back  again  directly  they  came  full  of  merriment: 
'  There  was  no  objection  on  shore  to  our  retaining  the 
presents  of  the  Commodore.  We  will  take  the  arms. 
And  now,  here  is  something  from  our  wives." 

Such  a  squawking!  the  little  women  had  sent  down  a 
lot  of  fowls  in  wicker  cages  and  three  or  four  thousand 
eggs  in  boxes.  Determined  to  be  under  no  obligations, 
the  Commodore  sent  up  to  the  wives  of  the  officers,  with 
his  compliments,  a  large  case  of  American  garden  seeds. 
And  still  the  Governor  and  Tatsonoske  lingered,  loath  to 
say  the  final  "  Sayonara" 


280  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  I  shall  weep  when  you  go,"  laughed  Yezaimon, 
ostentatiously  wiping  his  eyes. 

"  No  wonder,"  with  a  knowing  look  whispered  Tat- 
sonoske  confidentially  to  Captain  Buchanan  over  the  wine. 
"  The  President's  letter  has  been  received  at  Yedo  and 
is  likely  to  be  favorably  considered.  In  that  case 
Yezaimon  will  shortly  be  promoted  to  a  higher  rank." 

"  It  is  the  intention  of  the  Commodore  to  leave 
to-morrow,"  casually  remarked  Buchanan. 

Instantly  down  went  Tatsonoske's  glass,  alert  to  dip 
lomacy  even  in  the  midst  of  pleasure.  "  Will  you  make 
a  declaration  to  that  effect  in  writing?" 

'  You  seem  to  doubt  my  word,"  coldly  replied  Captain 
Buchanan,  declining  to  write. 

It  was  already  dusk  when,  with  handshakes  all  around, 
bowing  and  smiling,  the  little  brown  men  went  over  the 
side  of  the  "  Susquehanna."  But  when  sunrise  reddened 
Fujiyama,  four  ships  without  a  yard  of  canvas  set,  equi 
distant  one  from  another,  in  stately  procession  were  seen 
deploying  down  the  Bay  of  Yedo.  Soon  the  shores  on 
either  side  were  black  with  people,  and  thousands  stand 
ing  in  boats  pushed  out  into  the  water,  marvelling  at  the 
mystery  that  could  so  control  a  fleet.  As  the  last  ship 
rounded  the  headland,  still  they  stood,  watching  even  the 
train  of  smoke  that  indicated  where  the  barbarians  had 
disappeared. 


XIV 

YEDO   CASTLE 

LOTUS  bloomed  in  the  moat  around  Yedo  castle. 
Goldfishes  swam  in  translucent  basins,  birds  sang, 
and  orchards  bent  with  the  nectarines  of  old  Japan. 
Pretty  girls  played  on  samisens,   and  daimios  in  court 
brocade  bowed  every  day  until  their  gauzy  wings  touched 


YEDO    CASTLE  281 

the  floor  at  the  feet  of  the  Shogun.  But  the  black  ships 
changed  all  that. 

"  Your  Majesty,  the  pheasants  nesting  in  the  hol 
lows  are  fluttering  up  with  affright!  Is  an  earthquake 
coming?  " 

So  had  Perry's  military  salute  shaken  Yedo  that  day 
he  landed  at  Kurihama.  The  Defender  of  the  Throne 
was  startled.  From  their  fortified  yashiki  on  the  hills 
around  Yedo  castle,  the  first  counsellors  of  the  empire 
had  gone  down  to  meet  the  scarlet-haired  barbarians. 
Knights  were  there,  samurai  retainers,  whose  swords  had 
not  known  war  since  the  Great  Peace  of  a  quarter  of  a 
thousand  years.  From  their  songs  and  studies,  their 
dilettante  poetry  and  philosophy,  the.  ships  had  sum 
moned  them,  knocking  at  the  gate.  A  neighbor  would 
speak  to  Japan.  And  now  the  letter,  in  a  golden  box  that 
cost  a  thousand  dollars  in  America,  lay  at  his  feet.  Never 
such  a  letter  had  been  received  in  all  the  years  of  the 
Shogunate,  never  such  an  armament  had  come  since  the 
days  of  Kublai  Khan.  What  was  to  be  done?  Under 
the  very  guns  of  Japanese  batteries,  and  against  all  pro 
tests  of  the  authorities,  the  fleet  was  even  now  surveying 
the  Bay  of  Yedo.  Would  they  approach  the  Divine  City 
itself? 

America  would  shake  hands  with  Japan,  would  buy 
coal  there,  and  make  use  of  a  port. 

"  Let  us  refer  it  to  the  daimios  of  all  the  country 
castles  to  read  and  consider,"  said  the  Shogun  to  his 
advisers.  "  Let  us  freely  invite  an  expression  of  opinion 
from  every  one.  This  will  throw  the  responsibility  from 
our  shoulders  to  that  of  the  local  princes." 

Toda,  Prince  of  Idzu,  and  Ito,  Prince  of  Iwami,  were 
willing.  Out  under  dim  arcades  of  century-old  cypress 
that  shaded  the  post  roads  of  old  Japan,  sped'  the  runners ; 
castle  town,  post  town,  highroad,  and  hollow  heard  their 
sandals  before  even  yet  Perry  had  left  the  bay.  The 
lords  of  sixty-four  clans  of  the  Land  of  the  Gods  received 
each  a  copy  of  the  President's  letter. 

"  Sweep  away  the  foreign  barbarians,"  came  back  the 
answer  of  the  Prince  of  Mito,  who  would  be  Shogun. 


282  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  Let  not  our  generation  be  the  first  to  see  the  disgrace  of 
a  foreign  army  on  the  land  where  our  fathers  rest.  Can 
it  be  possible  that  we  should  glory  in  trade?  Even  the 
limited  trade  with  Holland  ought  to  have  been  stopped. 
The  necessity  for  action  against  the  ships  now  lying  in 
harbor  has  brought  the  various  samurai  to  the  capital  from 
distant  quarters.  Is  it  wise  to  disappoint  them?  The 
haughty  demeanor  of  the  barbarians  now  at  anchorage 
has  provoked  even  the  illiterate  populace." 

And  the  Prince  of  Mito  voiced  the  majority.  Japan 
was  for  war,  because  President  Fillmore  had  asked  for 
the  ordinary  courtesies  of  a  neighbor  toward  his  sailors 
on  those  shores. 

"  Will  it  not  be  madness  to  resist  an  enemy  with 
myriads  of  men-of-war  who  can  capture  all  our  junks 
and  blockade  our  coasts?"  suggested  the  Shogun. 

"  Build  junks,"  replied  the  Prince  of  Mito.  "  Expel 
them  from  our  waters." 

There  was  nothing  for  the  Shogun  but  to  prepare.  The 
Prince  of  Mito  himself  was  appointed  director  of  mari 
time  defences.  For  the  first  time  in  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years,  permission  was  given  to  build  junks  of  battle. 
The  sun-gla  was  adopted,  the  flag  of  the  rising  sun. 
Arms  were  cast,  after  the  pattern  of  a  few  samples  pre 
sented  by  the  Commodore;  troops  were  drilled,  forts 
built.  Along  the  highroads  daimios  hastened  their 
armies ;  three  hundred  thousand  patriots  flocked  to  Yedo. 
Contributions  were  levied  on  rich  merchants,  and  coins 
were  minted  to  pay  thousands  of  laborers. 

Bronze  bells  of  Buddhist  temples  were  cast  into  cannon. 
My  lady  in  her  bower,  her  maid  in  the  kitchen,  gave  their 
metal  mirrors  to  be  melted  into  muskets.  In  three  months 
arose  the  Shinagawa  forts.  New  watch-towers  were  set 
up  along  miles  of  unprotected  coast.  Every  headland 
had  its  lookout  provided  with  telescopes  of  glasses  set  in 
tubes  of  bamboo.  Sentinels  paced  the  ramparts  and 
guarded  the  gateways  of  every  seaport.  Cobwebs  were 
brushed  from  long  unused  loopholes  for  archers'  shafts 
and  matchlocks.  Supply  merchants  rushed  down  their 
wares  to  Yedo  as  if  a  siege  were  threatened. 


THE   TREATY  283 

The  excitement  of  it  all  killed  the  Shogun. 

"  Let  us  send  word  by  the  Dutch,"  said  the  daimios. 
"  Tell  the  Americans  we  cannot  treat.  The  Shogun  is 
dead." 

At  the  same  time  orders  were  despatched  for  Dutch 
books  and  teachers  of  military  science,  and  a  man-of-war, 
to  be  built  in  Holland. 

"  Nay,  rather,"  begged  Yoshida  Shoin,  an  ardent 
student  at  Yedo,  "  let  me  take  a  sea  voyage  to  Europe. 
Let  me  study  the  art  of  navigation,  and  assist  in  building 
and  working  the  ship." 

His  petition  was  refused. 

"  No  Japanese  can  go  out  of  the  country." 

But  Japanese  guards,  who  had  learned  the  musketry 
drill  from  Dutch  officers  at  Nagasaki,  were  brought  out 
from  Deshima  prison  and  appointed  instructors  to  the 
army.  At  the  same  time  was  repealed  the  age-long 
ordeal  of  trampling  on  the  cross.  In  his  palace  at  Kioto 
the  Mikado  said  nothing.  Would  the  black  ships  come 
to  Kioto?  Imprisoned  by  mediaeval  tradition,  the  last 
descendant  of  the  Sons  of  Heaven  sat  guarding  a  royal 
infant,  born  twenty-one  days  before  the  ships  of  Com 
modore  Perry  left  America.  While  Baby  Mutsu  Hito 
slept,  the  Mikado  listened  —  for  the  guns  of  destiny. 
This  outer  commotion  had  penetrated  even  the  sanctum. 


XV 

THE  TREATY 

A\IN  were  the  treaty  ships  sighted  by  the  watchers 
on  the  hills  of  Icfzu.     Again  the  old  Dutch  guns 
on  the  lookout  signalled.     The  hated  hairy  for 
eigners  had  come.     Japanese  shivering  over  their  little 
charcoal  burners  after  the  snowstorm  of  a  February  day 
felt  that  the  holy  war  had  come  to  Japan,  —  the  war  for 
existence.     War  lords  guarding  the  battlements  of  pic 
turesque  castles  peered  through  the  gloom  on  nine  steam 


284  MCDONALD  OF.  OREGON 

battleships,  mounting  three  hundred  and  twenty  cannon, 
the  largest  foreign  fleet  ever  in  Japanese  waters.  With 
out  forts  worthy  of  the  name,  without  warships,  without 
modern  armor,  with  no  trained  army,  at  last  the  Japa 
nese  realized  their  helpless  situation.  Coats  of  mail,  long 
rusting  in  storehouses,  that  were  now  hastily  brought  out 
and  burnished,  what  were  they  against  yon  smoking  port 
holes?  Could  soldier  samurai  jousting  at  sword-fencing 
and  horseback  riding,  could  cyclopean  walls,  iron-gray 
and  green  with  the  moss  of  centuries,  avail  against  an 
actual  battery?  Amazed,  they  gave  up  all  semblance  of 
defence,  even  burning  a  part  of  their  fortifications,  that 
the  Americans  might  not  know  such  a  thing  as  resistance 
had  been  contemplated. 

"  Let  the  barbarians  be  received  with  utmost  con 
sideration,"  signalled  the  new  Shogun,  trusting  to 
diplomacy. 

Again,  at  Uraga,  troops  of  government  boats  sculled 
out  to  intercept,  and  again  the  majestic  steamers  swept 
them  by  toward  the  chosen  anchorage,  up,  up,  within  an 
hour  of  Yedo.  Bleak  and  forbidding  arose  the  wintry 
landscape.  Groves  and  gardens  had  lost  their  Summer 
green,  and  the  picturesque  little  villages  nestled  in  Winter 
snow.  High  behind  all  arose  Fujiyama,  sentinel  of  the 
sea,  glittering  like  frosted  silver,  with  storm  clouds  scud 
ding  round  her  brow.  Forts  stood  out  distinctly  now 
through  the  bare  and  leafless  groves  of  a  hundred  head 
lands.  All  the  way  up  from  Uraga,  on  the  stormy, 
blustery  sea,  two  government  boats  followed  in  the  wake 
of  the  fleet,  and  at  the  first  opportunity  Tatsonoske 
scrambled  on  board.  All  about  the  ships  —  their  names, 
and  whether  others  were  coming  —  Tatsonoske  would 
know  for  his  superiors. 

"  Our  business  is  to  induce  the  Commodore  to  return 
to  Uraga,"  finally  concluded  Tatsonoske.  "  Two  high 
Japanese  officials  are  there  in  waiting,  appointed  to  meet 
and  treat  with  the  Americans." 

"  No,"  Captain  Adams  assured  him,  "  the  Commo 
dore  will  not  return  to  Uraga,  but  he  will,  if  necessary, 
go  on  up  to  Yedo." 


THE    TREATY  285 

"  Oh,  no !  not  to  Yedo !  "  Perspiration  came  out  like 
rain  upon  his  brow.  Tatsonoske  trembled. 

Plainly  the  Japanese  were  troubled.  With  anxiety  he 
inquired,  "  Are  the  Americans  still  actuated  by  the  same 
friendly  feeling  as  the  Japanese  government  ?  " 

"  By  no  other  motives  than  those  of  friendship,"  Cap 
tain  Adams  hastened  to  reassure  him.  "  It  is  our  great 
est  desire  to  be  in  relations  of  peace  and  amity  with 
Japan,  but  we  cannot  endanger  the  safety  of  the  ships 
by  resorting  to  Uraga." 

Every  day  for  six  days  Tatsonoske  came,  partaking 
of  the  ship's  tea,  cakes,  wine,  and  cigars,  urging  Uraga, 
and  objecting  to  surveys  of  the  Bay  of  Yedo.  And 
every  day  the  Commodore  rushed  the  surveys  in  the 
future  interests  of  the  United  States  and  of  the  civilized 
world,  refusing  to  return  to  Uraga.  Resolutely  he  had 
set  himself  against  this  seclusion  of  Japan,  beyond  whose 
gate  his  fleet  had  been  the  first  to  pass. 

"  I,  myself,  will  go  and  acquaint  the  High  Officer 
there  with  the  Commodore's  unalterable  decision,"  con 
sented  Captain  Adams  on  the  eighth  day. 

The  morning  was  calm  when  he  set  out,  but  before 
reaching  Uraga's  unsheltered  bight  a  strong  gale  com 
pelled  the  "  Vandalia  "  to  anchor  for  the-  night.  On 
Washington's  birthday,  amid  a  salvo  that  shook  the  hills, 
Captain  Adams,  with  a  few  attendants,  landed,  and  found 
himself  directly  surrounded  by  Japanese  guards,  with 
suggestive  swords  protruding  behind  their  gowns.  Prince 
Hayashi,  professor  of  the  Chinese  language  and  litera 
ture,  the  most  learned  man  in  Japan,  had  been  appointed 
to  meet  the  barbarians.  His  chief  interpreter  was  Mor- 
yama  Yenoske,  of  Nagasaki,  the  faVorite  pupil  of  Ranald 
McDonald. 

"  It  is  quite  impossible  for  the  Commodore  to  come 
to  Uraga,"  said  Captain  Adams,  politely  handing  the 
Commodore's  note.  "  But  he  will  be  very  happy  to  send 
one  of  his  steamers  to  convey  Your  Excellency  up  to  the 
place  of  meeting  near  the  anchorage  of  the  American 
ships." 

Surrounded  by  fifty  armed  samurai,  Hayashi  shut  his 


286  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

military  fan  with  a  snap.  With  a  start,  and  whitened 
cheek,  every  American  clapped  hand  on  his  revolver. 
For  had  they  not  heard  of  Golowin,  the  Russian,  who 
came  ashore  for  consultation,  and  was  seized  and  held 
prisoner  two  years  at  Matsumai?  Scarce  noticing  them, 
Prince  Hayashi  set  his  big  horn-rimmed  goggles  athwart 
his  nose  and  bent  over  the  Commodore's  document. 

Three  days  the  "  Vandalia  "  rode  at  anchor,  waiting 
for  a  reply  to  the  Commodore's  note,  then,  as  the  ship 
came  back  with  its  invariable  answer,  lo!  Commodore 
Perry  and  his  fleet  were  already  moving  up  toward  Yedo, 
—  so  near,  in  fact,  that  now  he  could  hear  the  striking 
of  the  temple  bells,  and  from  the  masthead  see  the  imperial 
city  itself. 

"  Stop  them !  stop  the  barbarians !  "  Fleet  messengers 
riding  hard  on  relays  of  horses  brought  word  along 
shore.  "  If  the  American  ships  come  to  Yedo  it  will 
be  a  national  disgrace.  Stop  them;  make  the  treaty  at 
Kanagawa !  " 

And  so,  the  treaty  was  made  at  the  very  spot  where 
the  ships  then  lay,  —  nine  miles  from  Yedo,  between 
Kanagawa  and  Yokohama.  In  a  line  abreast  Yokohama, 
covering  with  their  guns  an  extent  of  five  miles,  Com 
modore  Perry  moored  his  fleet  in  line  of  battle,  the  whole 
squadron  prepared  for  instant  action.  But  the  benign 
Commodore  apprehended  no  action. 

"  Let  every  marine  that  can  be  spared  from  duty  ap 
pear  in  full  accoutrement,  three  bands  of  music,  and  all 
the  officers  and  sailors  who  can  possibly  leave,"  were  his 
orders  that  morning.  Five  hundred  landed,  every  man 
armed. 

Seventeen  guns  announced  the  Commodore's  debarka 
tion,  and  as  he  entered  the  treaty  building,  by  preconcerted 
arrangement  twenty-one  more  guns  for  the  Emperor, 
and  seventeen  for  Hayashi,  sent  Yedo  to  her  shrines  with 
the  certainty  of  a  cannonade.  Japanese  troops  stood 
guard,  appointed  to  watch  carefully  "  the  American  bar 
barians,  lest  they  should  proceed  to  acts  of  violence." 
Soldier  samurai,  —  retainers  from  many  a  daimio's  castle, 
silken  dressed,  effeminate,  bearing  in  their  expressive 


THE   TREATY  287 

faces  the  features  of  their  divine  ancestors,  —  Malay 
islanders  and  Asiatic  highlanders,  who  in  some  past  aeon 
had  migrated  into  the  island  wilderness  and  evolved  an 
empire,  stood  sworn,  every  one  of  them,  in  case  the 
American  did  attack,  "  to  fight  until  the  last  man  was 
slain  and  ask  no  quarter."  In  that  hour  East  met  West, 
feudalism  met  democracy,  each  with  a  classic  inheritance, 
each  with  an  ardent  patriotism,  to  bridge  the  gulf  of 
race  and  time  through  the  medium  of  Ranald's  pupil, 
Moryama  Yenoske.  So  Perry  met  Hayashi. 

Grave  and  courteous,  the  commissioners  sat  opposite 
each  other,  with  Moryama  on  his  knees  at  the  feet  of 
Hayashi.  Humbly,  as  in  the  old  hall  at  Nagasaki,  he 
drooped  his  head  and  waited,  a  "  word-passer "  only, 
but  so  clean  and  clear  cut,  so  liberal  and  conciliatory, 
that  he  shaped  the  contracts  of  two  nations.  And  close 
by  knelt  his  associate,  Tako  Juro,  undoubtedly  another 
spelling  of  the  name  of  McDonald's  pupil,  Akawa  Ejuro. 
Four  princes  in  gold  brocade  and  antique  doublets  sat 
in  the  Japanese  commission,  —  Hayashi,  not  saturnine 
enough  to  conceal  his  natural  benevolence,  Ito,  corpulent 
and  vivacious,  Tsuduki,  and  the  gay  Isawa,  Prince  of 
Mimasake,  "  more  liberal  with  respect  to  foreigners," 
so  the  interpreter  said,  a  lover  of  music,  whose  close- 
fitting  foot-gloves,  laced  high  above  his  ankles,  kept  time 
whenever  the  bands  of  the  squadron  struck  up  a  lively 
air.  Fair  were  the  feudal  nobles,  and  of  expressive 
countenances,  with  long  faces,  arched  noses,  and  the 
straight  eyebrows  of  the  Malay. 

Twro  others  sat  in  the  commission,  of  Mongolian 
features,  like  North  American  Indians,  —  Uyedono  of 
the  Board  of  Revenue,  and  Matsusaki,  recorder,  meagre 
of  body  and  yellow  of  skin,  peering  short-sighted  out 
of  his  slanting,  deep-set,  dark  eyes.  Always  present, 
always  sitting  apart,  Matsusaki  never  spoke,  was  never 
consulted,  but  ever  kept  busy  the  industrious  scribe  at 
his  knee,  Namoura  Tainoske,  the  youngest  and  smallest 
of  Ranald  McDonald's  pupils.  On  the  part  of  the  Ameri 
cans,  the  Commodore  was  assisted  by  his  captains  of  the 
fleet,  —  Adams,  Abbot,  and  Buchanan,  —  as  well  as  by 


288  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

his  son  and  private  secretary,  Oliver  Hazard  Perry, 
and  his  Dutch  and  Chinese  interpreters,  —  Portman  and 
Williams.  For  if  ever  a  word  stuck,  Hayashi  and 
Williams  consulted  in  Chinese. 

What  an  hour  to  Williams,  who,  as  a  young  mis 
sionary  from  Macao,  was  with  the  Oregon  castaways 
on  the  "Morrison  "  when  it  was  fired  on  at  Uraga  sev 
enteen  years  before!  Returning  to  Macao  with  Ewa, 
Kioko,  and  Oto,  from  them  he  had  obtained  a  reading 
knowledge  of  Japanese. 

Through  the  paper  windows  a  subdued  light  fell  upon 
the  abundant  locks  of  the  Commodore  as  he  turned  his 
eyes  slowly,  as  if  in  deep  thought,  toward  the  first 
speaker.  With  many  compliments  Prince  Hayashi  was 
delivering  to  the  Commodore  a  long  roll  of  mulberry 
bark  paper,  containing  the  formal  reply  to  the  President's 
letter  : 

"  We  admit  the  urgency  of  the  proposals  of  your  government 
concerning  coal,  wood,  water,  provisions,  and  the  saving  of  ships 
and  their  crews  in  distress.  After  being  informed  what  harbor 
Your  Excellency  selects,  that  harbor  shall  be  prepared,  which  will 
take  about  five  years. 

"  Having  no  precedent  with  respect  to  coal,  we  request  Your 
Excellency  to  furnish  us  with  an  estimate.  What  do  you  under 
stand  by  provisions,  and  how  much  coal? 

"  Finally,  anything  ships  may  be  in  want  of  that  can  be  furnished 
by  the  productions  of  this  empire  shall  be  supplied.  The  prices  of 
merchandise  and  articles  of  barter  to  be  fixed  by  Kurakawa  Kahei 
and  Moryama  Yenoske." 

With  seals  attached,  "  By  order  of  the  high  gentlemen," 
the  document  was  signed  only  by  Moryama  Yenoske, 
who  had  evidently  prepared  the  paper. 

"  Let  it  be  duly  certified  and  signed  by  the  Commis 
sioners,"  said  the  Commodore.  "  And  now  it  will  be 
well  to  proceed  to  the  treaty,"  he  urged,  enumerating 
permission  to  make  surveys,  copies  of  which  should  be 
given  to  the  imperial  government,  permission  for  Ameri 
cans  to  land  in  Japan,  permission  to  trade,  as  in  China, 
permission  to  enjoy  religious  liberty,  and  to  have  a  spot 
of  ground  on  which  to  bury  their  dead. 


THE   TREATY  289 

The  Commissioners  gasped,  —  wood  and  water  were 
but  an  entering  wedge.  "  No  proposition  for  trade  can 
be  considered,"  firmly  insisted  Prince  Hayashi. 

Dropping  that,  Commodore  Perry  turned  to  other 
matters.  "  Having  been  sent  by  my  government  to  make 
a  treaty,  I  must  make  one  if  it  takes  two  years.  To  pay 
the  highest  honor  to  His  Imperial  Majesty,  your  Em 
peror,  the  President  has  sent  a  number  of  ships,  —  to  be 
increased  by  others  to  follow  until  the  treaty  is  made. 
The  Americans  are  of  few  words,  but  they  mean  what 
they  say.  Their  demands  are  reasonable  and  proper 
and  they  expect  them  to  be  complied  with." 

Uneasily  the  Japanese  asked,  "  Are  the  Americans 
friendly?" 

"  Certainly  we  are.  Think  how  closely  your  geo 
graphical  position  has  been  brought  to  the  United  States 
by  our  new  possessions  on  the  Pacific?  Fifty  or  a  hun 
dred  war  steamers  full  of  soldiers  could  come  from 
California  to  Japan  in  a  few  days." 

Too  well  Japan  knew  this,  too  well  she  knew  the  story 
of  uninterrupted  victory  of  the  Mexican  War.  And 
Perry,  —  they  looked  at  him  as  the  embodiment  of 
power ;  his  ships  won  at  Vera  Cruz,  —  those  ships  now 
in  their  harbor!  They  had  even  an  intimation  of  his 
great  brother  in  the  Battle  of  the  Lakes.  Despite  their 
code  of  etiquette  that  made  the  drooping  eye  the  mark 
of  breeding,  they  could  not  resist  the  fascination  of  his 
personality.  To  a  bald-headed  nation  like  the  Japanese, 
Perry's  handsome  and  luxuriant  hair  growing  well  to 
the  front  gave  him  a  strangely  imposing  appearance. 
His  navy-blue  cloak  hung  regally  from  his  broad 
shoulders;  he  charmed,  even  by  his  silence. 

"  I  dare  not  return  to  the  United  States  without  carry 
ing  satisfactory  responses  to  the  proposals  of  the  Presi 
dent,  and  I  must  remain  until  such  are  placed  in  my 
possession."  And  they  knew  he  would.  There  was  no 
getting  rid  of  him.  Japan  must  meet  his  terms.  "  I 
prefer  to  be  firm  to  the  point  of  obstinacy  rather  than 
let  them  believe  me  to  be  of  a  yielding  disposition,"  the 
Commodore  had  said  on  his  first  visit;  and  proceeding 

19 


290  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

now  with  the  same  determination,  he  drew  from  them 
concessions  inch  by  inch,  until  Japan's  exclusive  policy 
had  not  a  thread  to  hang  by.  The  same  persistency  that 
collected  a  fleet  in  the  midst  of  a  presidential  campaign, 
the  same  daring  that  held  him  as  a  boy  at  the  side  of 
his  immortal  brother  in  the  Battle  of  the  Lakes,  had 
brought  him  to  the  Gate  of  Yedo.  To  yield  would  have 
been  impossible.  Positive  and  stern  when  duty  called, 
Commodore  Perry  embodied  the  best  in  Anglo-Saxondom. 
Day  after  day,  in  the  blustery  March  weather,  he  met 
the  Commissioners,  each  day  with  some  new  point,  each 
day  insisting  upon  a  written  compact. 

"  It  takes  time,  time,"  softly  urged  Moryama  Yenoske 
when  a  map  was  spread  before  them.  "  This  matter  is 
so  new,  so  opposed  to  the  laws  of  the  Empire." 

"  What  ports  have  you  selected?"  inquired  the  Com 
modore.  "  Where  are  they  ?  Five  years  is  a  long  time 
to  wait.  We  cannot  go  to  Nagasaki.  You  know  the 
Americans  will  never  submit  to  trade  under  the  restrictions 
of  the  Dutch  at  Deshima." 

Patiently,  kindly,  tactfully,  he  was  winning  a  bloodless 
victory.  "  Be  firm,"  he  said  to  his  associates,  "  take  no 
steps  backward,  and  stick  to  the  truth  in  everything." 

"  It  will  be  necessary  for  the  surveying  party  now  at 
work  in  the  bay  to  land  to  plant  signals  alongshore," 
said  Perry  one  day. 

With  a  long-drawn  sigh  Moryama  reported  this. 

"  We  fear  trouble  and  confusion,"  demurred  the  Japa 
nese,  "  if  the  officers  engaged  in  this  enter  the  villages." 
But  they  concurred  in  the  necessity,  "  if  the  Commodore 
had  so  ordered  it." 

Long  they  battled  over  the  privilege  of  going  ashore. 
"  The  health  of  officers  and  men  requires  it,"  said  the 
Commodore. 

Some  memories  of  wrecked  whalers,  so  lost  to  all  sense 
of  etiquette  as  to  refuse  to  be  imprisoned,  must  have 
recurred  to  Hayashi  as  he  warmly  denounced  their  law 
less  conduct,  behavior  of  which  no  well-bred  Japanese 
would  be  guilty. 

Finally,  permission  to  walk  on  shore  was  granted  to 


THE    TREATY  291 

the  Commodore  and  his  officers,  but  "  this  must  not  be 
general,  or  difficulties  with  the  people  will  ensue." 

"  Have  you  considered  my  proposition  concerning  the 
ports?"  began  the  Commodore  one  raw  morning  in  the 
chilly  hall  heated  only  by  copper  braziers  of  burning 
charcoal.  Five  hundred  American  whaleships  were  now 
in  Pacific  and  Japan  seas,  their  crews  suffering  for  want 
of  water  and  other  refreshments. 

"  Yes."  Prince  Hayashi  had  devoted  more  time  than 
the  Commodore  could  have  imagined  to  that  serious 
question.  He  had  fasted  and  prayed  and  passed  sleep 
less  nights  over  it.  But  Isawa  had  urged  liberality,  and 
carried  the  day. 

"  We  have  concluded  that  Shimoda  and  Hakodate  can 
be  opened,  provided  the  Americans  will  not  travel  farther 
into  the  interior  than  they  can  go  and  return  the  same 
day,"  said  Hayashi,  "  and  provided,  further,  that  no 
American  women  shall  be  brought  to  Japan." 

"  Great  heavens !  "  Glaring,  the  Commodore  straight 
ened  up  and  threw  back  his  boat-cloak.  "  Were  I  to  per 
mit  any  such  stipulation  as  that  in  the  treaty,  when  I  got 
home  the  women  would  pull  all  the  hair  out  of  my  head." 

Never  had  the  American  Commodore  spoken  in  such 
astounding  tones. 

"What!    what  did  he  say?" 

Prince  Hayashi,  Ito,  Isawa,  and  all  the  rest  of  them, 
shook  in  their  silken  robes.  Their  faces  paled  to  the  very 
topknots  glued  on  the  crowns  of  their  shaven  heads.  Ah, 
how  frightfully  insulted  he  must  be,  to  speak  in  that  tone ! 

But  when  Moryama  interpreted,  and  the  big  Commo 
dore  and  his  associates  roared  with  laughter,  the  little 
brown  men  caught  the  joke  and  laughed  too,  in  the  first 
genuinely  jovial  moment  they  had  known  together.  So 
gradually  the  bars  were  breaking  down.  More  and  more 
at  ease  they  became,  especially  as  the  Commodore  showed 
no  disposition  to  exert  his  acknowledged  power  in  coerc 
ing  a  yielding  people.  He  simply  argued  them  into 
reasonableness. 

Finally  came  the  day  for  landing  the  presents. 


292  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 


XVI 

THE   BIRTH   OF   MODERN   JAPAN 

MORYAMA,  who  had  become  chief  arbiter  as 
well  as  interpreter  in  the  treaty  for  coal,  wood, 
water,  provisions,  and  the  saving  of  ships  and 
their  crews  in  distress,  —  Moryama,  who  had  translated 
the  letter  of  the  Emperor  in  reply  to  that  of  President 
Fillmore,  —  Moryama,  who  with  the  prefect  was  to  decide 
prices  of  merchandise  and  articles  of  barter,  —  Moryama 
Yenoske,  the  indispensable,  was  now  appointed  to  arrange 
for  the  reception  of  the  presents  intended  for  the  Em 
peror.  Officials  with  silk  draperies  trailing  on  the  ground 
watched  while  the  boats  came  ashore.  Japanese  work 
men  in  mushroom  hats  and  straw  sandals  jumped  around 
constructing  suitable  sheds  for  the  protection  of  ma 
chinery,  and  laying  off  level  ground  for  the  circular  track 
of  the  miniature  railroad.  American  officers  and  work 
men  were  unpacking  the  mysteries  of  the  boxes.  On  that 
day  closed  ancient  history  in  Japan. 

The  telegraphic  apparatus  was  set  up,  a  mile  in  length, 
from  the  treaty  house  to  a  building  specially  erected, 
where  the  first  message  was  flashed  in  Japan.  The  rail 
road  was  laid,  and  the  locomotive  spun,  trailing  a  minia 
ture  train.  A  camera  was  set  up,  and  the  princes  were 
daguerreotyped,  --  "  spirit  pictures"  they  called  them; 
fires  were  built  in  stoves,  and  pots  began  to  boil ;  clocks, 
wound  up,  began  to  tick  and  strike;  life-boats  were 
launched  on  the  stormy  bay;  agricultural  implements 
and  machinery  began  to  buzz  and  hum ;  scales,  weights, 
measures,  maps,  charts,  books,  furniture,  window-glass, 
telescopes,  and  perfumery,  —  in  short,  an  international  in 
dustrial  exposition  was  set  up  on  the  grounds  adjoining 
the  treaty  house  at  Yokohama.  Perry  with  his  modern 


THE    BIRTH    OF    MODERN    JAPAN      293 

world  had  sailed  back  into  the  feudal  ages,  and  they,  at 
one  stride,  had  stepped  into  to-day. 

Vaguely  a  few  learned  men  of  Japan  had  heard  of 
these  things  through  the  Dutch,  the  ever-faithful  Dutch, 
and  through  Ranald  McDonald,  but  to  the  mass  of  the 
people  these  modern  inventions  partook  of  the  miracu 
lous.  Peering,  peering  everywhere,  examining  the  won 
ders,  measuring,  feeling,  trying,  taking  notes  on  mulberry 
bark  paper,  sketching  with  India  ink  and  hair  brushes, 
alert,  awake,  the  classic  student  of  Japan  was  grasping 
the  mystery  of  mechanics.  The  national  mind,  long  dis 
ciplined  in  abstruse  study,  mathematically  eager  and  accu 
rate,  attacked  these  material  manifestations  of  intellect 
with  a  curiosity  all-consuming. 

And  as  Ranald  McDonald  six  years  before  had  spent 
the  long  winter  in  telling  them  tales  of  his  country,  so 
now  every  American  endeavored  as  best  he  could  to  show 
the  workings  of  Western  civilization.  Caps,  boots,  jack 
ets,  trousers,  and  the  Americans  themselves  became  part 
of  the  exhibit,  to  be  handled,  examined,  and  scrutinized. 
Good  naturedly  the  marines  turned  their  pockets  inside 
out,  fastened  and  unfastened  coats,  to  show  the  working 
of  buttons,  obligingly  presenting  handfuls  of  these  "bright 
things,"  unknown  in  Japan. 

So  with  the  fleet.  As  on  the  first  visit  to  Japan  the 
curiosity  of  the  Japanese  over  the  ships  had  been  insati 
able,  and  every  opportunity  had  been  used  to  study  the 
parts  and  ask  the  uses,  so  now  at  every  visit,  and  these 
were  daily,  the  little  brown  men  were  peering  into  the 
muzzles  of  the  guns,  measuring,  examining,  trying,  writ 
ing  down  every  note  of  explanation  on  their  pocket  rolls 
of  mulberry  paper  and  deftly  Sketching  the  outlines  of 
machinery,  until  one  day  Commodore  Perry  noted  in  the 
hands  of  these  artists  accurate  drawings  of  the  whole 
engine.  Surprised,  he  took  the  papers,  while  the  acute 
wielders  of  the  brush  paled,  half  expecting  a  reprimand 
from  the  great  commander.  No,  laughing  and  compli 
menting,  "  As  good  as  could  be  made  anywhere,"  he  told 
them  through  Moryama.  Out  of  the  ship  the  overjoyed 
artists  clambered,  hastening  home,  to  return  in  a  day  or 


294          MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

two  with  perfect  models  of  steamships  carved  out  of 
wood ;  pipes,  engines,  and  all,  "  As  perfect  as  a  Yankee 
could  have  made  them,"  said  Perry. 

Pointing  out  any  little  error,  remedying  defects,  like 
an  elder  brother  the  Commodore  admitted  them  to  the 
mysteries  of  his  machinery  and  the  workings  of  his  arma 
ment.  At  first  they  wondered,  then  grasping,  as  it  were, 
the  sense  of  pupil  and  teacher,  assiduously  devoted  them 
selves  to  the  study  of  modern  methods  of  naval  warfare. 
Suspicion  gave  way  to  confidence  and  gratitude  under 
the  benign  direction  of  the  honest  old  Commodore,  who, 
as  the  crowning  act  of  a  noble  life,  thus  initiated  a 
younger  member  into  the  great  brotherhood  of  nations. 

But,  while  learning  everything  about  America,  they 
would  tell  nothing  of  Japan.  "  Our  laws  forbid  it,"  was 
the  invariable  answer. 

"  There  is  no  other  way  to  get  at  them  except  by  a 
consul  resident  in  the  country,"  said  the  Commodore, 
and  set  himself  to  that  accomplishment. 

"  If  we  had  not  felt  great  confidence  in  you,  we  should 
not  have  consented  to  open  our  ports  at  all,"  said  Hay- 
ashi,  when  the  Commodore  urged  a  consul.  For  had  not 
the  Russians  taken  Saghalien  and  the  Kuriles,  and  were' 
they  not  creeping  toward  Yesso?  And  who  could  be 
trusted  after  all  the  trouble  they  had  had  with  Spain  and 
the  Portuguese  trying  to  seize  the  government  some  hun 
dreds  of  years  ago?  Japan  never  had  peace  until  she 
shut  her  gates  and  lived  to  herself. 

"  The  Commissioners  wish  every  point  desired  by  the 
Admiral  to  be  stated  clearly,  for  the  Japanese  are  not 
equal  to  the  Americans,"  said  Hayashi. 

Warmly  the  Commodore's  heart  went  out  to  this  brave 
little  people  who  had  striven  for  self-preservation  on  the 
shores  of  warring  Asia.  Not  a  hair  of  their  heads  should 
be  harmed  if  he  could  help  it.  And  then  came  the  ban 
quet.  For  a  long  time  the  Commodore  had  resolved 
that  when  the  negotiations  permitted  he  would  give  the 
Japanese  a  sample  of  American  hospitality.  His  flag 
ship,  the  "  Powhatan  "  now,  hung  with  American  em 
blems,  flags,  banners,  and  bunting,  became  the  theatre  of 


THE    BIRTH    OF    MODERN    JAPAN      295 

a  historic  scene.  Barbecued  bullocks,  sheep,  and  poultry, 
and  ship  stores  of  fruits  and  wines  and  vegetables,  in  the 
hands  of  the  Commodore's  Parisian  chef  assumed  a 
sumptuousness  seldom  seen  aboard  a  man-of-war.  Cut 
glass  and  silver,  the  best  the  fleet  afforded,  adorned  the 
banquet  boards,  as  in  his  own  cabin  the  Commodore 
and  his  captains  entertained  the  Commissioners  and 
Yenoske,  and  on  the  quarter  deck  other  officials  of 
various  ships  sat  down  with  sixty  subordinate  Japanese 
officials. 

Rapidly,  to  the  music  of  marine  bands,  sped  to  and 
fro  the  negro  waiters  with  viands  from  the  ship  kitchen, 
a  never-wearying  vision  to  the  Japanese.  Negroes? 
The  little  brown  men  could  scarcely  recover  from  the 
amazement  of  it. 

And  Matsusaki,  who  would  have  believed  it?  Solemn 
and  sour,  bilious  and  near-sighted,  Matsusaki,  whom  all 
the  Americans  had  come  to  believe  a  government  spy, 
actually  became  the  soul  of  the  party,  witty  and  con 
vivial  to  the  point  of  joviality,  surpassing  even  the 
frolicsome  Prince  Isawa.  Only  Hayashi,  grave  and 
dignified,  remained  serious  until  the  after-dinner  theat 
ricals,  when  he,  too,  gave  way  to  smiles.  It  was  sunset 
when  they  departed,  and  Matsusaki,  in  the  very  lan 
guage  of  an  Indian  Chief,  threw  his  arms  around  the 
Commodore's  neck  with  "  Nippon  and  America,  all  the 
same  heart." 

The  last  day  came  for  signing  up  the  articles,  and 
behold,  the  Japanese  had  transformed  the  large  reception 
house  on  shore  into  a  banquet  hall,  to  which  Prince  Ito 
had  brought  all  the  resources  of  his  Yedo  kitchen,  and 
his  far-famed  Japanese  cook.  Rapidly  passed  the  courses, 
—  soups,  stews,  shrimps  and  crayfishes,  lotus  salad,  salted 
plums,  pickled  bamboo  sprouts,  blanc-mange  of  seaweed, 
cakes,  confections,  and  sake  in  tiny  cups  of  the  most 
delicate  porcelain.  The  rice  was  slightly  burned,  for 
Perry's  cook  had  scorched  the  rice,  and  Ito's  cook  had 
been  instructed  that  the  Americans  liked  it  that  way! 
Into  the  same  room  were  then  brought  the  gifts  of  the 
Japanese  to  America.  The  red-covered  settees  along  the 


296  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

walls,  the  numerous  tables  and  stands,  and  even  the  matted 
floors  were  heaped  with  specimens  of  Japanese  art,  bro 
cades  and  silks,  exquisitely  wrought  and  polished  trays 
and  goblets,  lacquered  ware,  and  porcelain  adorned  with 
figures  and  flowers  of  gold,  braziers,  vases,  and  statu 
ettes  of  bronze  and  ivory  set  in  silver,  samples  of  bamboo 
furniture,  and  flowered  and  stamped  paper,  and  writing 
cases,  pongees  and  crepe,  and  jars  of  soy,  and  in  addition 
two  hundred  sacks  of  rice  and  some  hundreds  of  chickens 
for  the  squadron. 

From  this  remarkable  display  of  Oriental  art  all  accom 
panied  Perry  again  to  the  American  exposition,  where 
Namoura,  the  smallest  of  the  interpreters,  gayly  gathered 
up  his  silken  robes  and  took  a  ride  in  the  Lilliputian  rail 
road  car,  his  skirts  streaming  on  the  wind.  Each  blast 
of  the  steam  whistle  brought  shouts  of  applause.  The 
wonders  of  the  telegraph  created  renewed  astonishment; 
and  most  remarkable  of  all,  Yezaimon,  Governor  of 
Uraga,  was  authorized  to  build  and  equip  a  ship  modelled 
after  the  store  ship  "  Supply,"  the  tenth  vessel  that  had 
arrived  to  the  Commodore's  squadron. 

"  And  now,  before  I  leave  to  examine  the  newly 
opened  ports,  Shimoda  and  Hakodate,  I  must  take  a 
look  at  Yedo  and  salute  the  Emperor." 

Had  the  Commodore  announced  an  attack,  greater 
consternation  could  not  have  seized  the  Commissioners. 
Remonstrances  had  no  effect,  and  when,  early  the  next 
morning,  the  whole  squadron  set  out  like  a  flock  of 
mighty  birds  toward  the  sacred  city,  Moryama  and  Tat- 
sonoske,  all  in  a  flutter,  came  scrambling  on  board  the 
flagship,  falling  at  the  feet  of  the  Commodore,  begging 
him  to  desist. 

"  The  safety  of  the  Empire  and  most  certainly  that  of 
your  own  lives  depends  upon  the  issue,"  panted  Mor 
yama;  for  he  knew,  what  Perry  did  not,  that  more  than 
one  fierce  samurai  had  bound  himself  with  holy  vows  to 
slay  the  Arch  Defiler  should  he  set  foot  in  sacred  Yedo. 

But  the  Commodore  obdurately  shook  his  head. 
"  Once  for  all  time  I  am  going  to  break  up  that  super 
stition  that  no  foreigner  can  venture  to  the  imperial  city." 


THE    BIRTH    OF    MODERN    JAPAN      297 

With  the  color  all  gone  out  of  them,  the  interpreters 
stood  while  the  swift  ship  sped  cityward. 

Soon  out  of  the  mist  and  fog  of  an  April  morning  the 
holy  city  shone,  with  temples  and  towers  and  terraced 
gardens,  a  cloud-wrapt  dream,  half  hidden,  half  revealed, 
as  if  Buddha  himself  veiled  its  sanctity.  And  above  all 
smiled  the  sun-kissed  tip  of  Fujiyama. 

Down  at  the  Commodore's  feet  Moryama  threw  him 
self,  touching  the  deck  with  his  brow  in  his  anguish,  as 
the  determined  commander  looked  out  and  beheld  what 
the  Japanese  fain  would  have  hidden,  —  forts  begun  and 
abandoned,  burnt  palisades,  and  other  evidences  of  an 
effort  to  conceal  the  defence  that  had  been  undertaken. 
"  O  Honorable  Commodore,  if  the  squadron  anchors  in 
full  view  of  Yedo  the  immense  populace  will  become 
greatly  excited,"  still  Moryama  was  beseeching.  "  O 
august  Commander,  the  Commissioners  will  be  held 
responsible  for  any  catastrophe  which  may  ensue  from 
anchoring  the  steamers  off  Yedo  and  saluting  the  castle. 
You  are  too  generous  after  all  we  have  yielded  to  subject 
us  now  to  danger  and  probable  death !  " 

Moryama  could  scarce  control  his  excitement,  his  deli 
cate  frame  shook  like  an  aspen  as  the  Commodore  caught 
the  idea,  "  The  Commissioners  will  be  held  responsible." 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  anchor.  I  only  wanted  to  look  at 
Yedo,"  he  answered,  immediately  giving  the  signal  to 
right  about  and  return  to  anchorage  at  Yokohama. 

With  a  long-drawn  breath  of  relief  the  Japanese  now 
retired  with  the  Commodore  to  his  cabin.  For  once  and 
at  last  the  Commodore  had  yielded! 


298  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 


XVII 

MORYAMA   YENOSKE 

A  FAIRS  moved  rapidly  after  the  departure  of  Perry 
from  Japan.  While  all  America  was  listening 
for  news  of  the  Pacific  railroad  surveys,  Perry 
came  home,  in  January,  '55,  and,  as  the  last  act  of  a 
long  and  useful  life,  hauled  down  his  flag  in  Brooklyn 
navy  yard.  In  July,  Townsend  Harris  was  appointed 
the  first  Consul  General  to  Japan. 

'  Tell  me  of  Commodore  Perry,"  was  Moryama 
Yenoske's  first  request  on  the  Consul's  arrival.  "  His 
name  will  live  forever  in  the  history  of  Japan." 

Already  the  Japanese  had  learned  to  manage  the  little 
locomotive  the  Commodore  had  given  them,  and  had  the 
lifeboat  afloat  with  a  trained  crew,  but  the  telegraph  was 
top  mysterious.  Eagerly  Moryama  asked  for  books  on 
military  and  naval  science,  and  medicine.  Despite  pre 
cautions,  cholera  had  come,  devastating  Japan.  Within 
two  weeks  after  Perry  left,  an  American  clipper  from 
San  Francisco  had  entered  Yedo  Bay. 

From  the  very  hour  of  Perry's  treaty  Japan  began  to 
arm  against  the  foreigner.  Already  a  thousand  brass 
howitzers  had  been  cast  after  the  model  the  Commodore 
had  given  them,  copied  down  to  the  minutest  particular, 
even  to  the  percussion  caps  and  drag  ropes,  with  car 
tridges  of  paper  and  wads  of  wood.  Brass  drums  had 
been  copied  from  the  Dutch. 

"  And  may  our  people  receive  some  instructions  in 
drum  signals  from  your  next  man-of-war  in  port?" 
modestly  inquired  Moryama  of  the  new  Consul. 

Scientific  batteries  were  in  process  of  erection,  steam 
ships  and  gunpowder  were  being  purchased,  military 
and  naval  schools  were  opening  all  over  Japan,  and 
arsenals  were  in  process  of  erection.  Jealous  for  his 


MORYAMA   YENOSKE  299 

country,  Moryama  fasted  for  fifty  days  when  he  saw 
the  new  Consul  General  directing  coast  surveys  at 
Shimoda. 

"  I  may  have  to  perform  hari  kiri  if  this  work  goes 
on,"  he  pleaded  down  on  his  knees  in  front  of  the 
Consul. 

"  Bless  you,"  replied  Mr.  Harris,  in  the  kindliest  tone, 
"  America,  England,  and  all  civilized  lands,  expend  vast 
sums  in  surveying  their  coasts,  and  sell  the  charts  to 
owners  of  ships  to  encourage  commerce.  And  for  this 
same  purpose  civilized  nations  erect  hundreds  of  light 
houses,  for,  next  only  to  agriculture,  commerce  is  a 
source  of  national  wealth." 

Encouraged  and  consoled,  Moryama  deeply  thanked 
the  Consul  for  his  friendly  deportment,  and,  still  on  his 
knees,  prayed  earnestly  for  his  welfare.  Good  reason 
had  Moryama  for  this  anxiety.  The  time  had  come 
when  the  American  Consul  must  go  to  Yedo  castle.  Two 
of  the  Perry  commissioners,  Hayashi  and  Uyedono,  were 
passing  anxious  clays  and  sleepless  nights,  with  loss  of 
appetite,  and  gushes  of  blood  from  their  noses,  over  this 
next  step  in  the  opening  of  Japan.  "  Millions  will  go 
to  Yedo  to  see  the  grand  entry  of  the  American  Am 
bassador,"  said  Moryama.  But  an  edict  went  out,  —  all 
citizens  must  remain  at  home.  The  streets  were  swept, 
all  travel  was  forbidden,  as  over  the  usually  thronged 
Tokaido,  the  national  post  road  of  Japan,  the  American 
Consul  was  borne  like  a  prince  in  state,  with  a  train  of 
three  hundred  and  fifty  people,  up  to  Yedo.  Across  the 
moat,  under  the  great  gateway,  and  into  the  very  court 
he  was  taken  in  his  palanquin,  —  an  honor  accorded  only 
to  Japanese  of  the  most  exalted  rank. 

Hayashi  and  other  princes  of  the  empire  met  him, 
and  agitated  Japanese  interpreters,  all  trembling  as  in 
ague  fits,  with  drops  of  perspiration  standing  out  like 
beads  upon  their  foreheads.  But  unawed  in  the  slightest, 
the  American  Consul  walked  up  to  the  foot  of  the  Sho- 
gun's  throne.  The  daimio-princes  themselves,  crouched 
on  their  faces,  were  amazed  at  this  "  greatness  of  soul." 
They  supposed  he  would  falter,  and  looked  to  see  him 


300  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  tremble  and  quake."  But  not  a  quake  came  from  the 
first  Consul  that  had  penetrated  inner  Japan. 

Then  began  the  questions.  "  What  is  a  foreign  min 
ister  and  what  are  his  duties?"  "What  do  you  mean 
by  trade  being  carried  on  without  interference  of  gov 
ernment  officers?"  "What  is  a  commercial  treaty?" 
"  What  would  it  be  like?"  The  world  knows  the  rest, 
how  step  by  step  America  taught  her  most  eager  pupils, 
the  little  brown  men  of  Japan,  showing  them  how  to 
make  a  treaty,  shaping  it  up  and  explaining  every  feature, 
pushing  wider  the  little  opening  of  the  door  that  had 
been  unlatched  by  Perry.  Then  came  the  Japanese  New 
Year,  and  trains  of  nobles  from  the  country  castles, 
bringing  up  presents  for  the  Shogun. 

"  Treaties !  treaties  with  the  foreigner !  "  they  cried, 
amazed.  Yedo  castle  was  in  an  uproar.  "  We  will 
sacrifice  our  lives  before  such  changes  shall  be  made! 
Even  a  port  of  refuge  for  whalers  was  too  much !  "  Of 
eighteen  powerful  daimios,  only  four  were  in  favor  of 
opening  Japan. 

"  The  Prince  of  Kaga  goes  on  like  a  lunatic  about  the 
treaty,"  whispered  Moryama  to  the  American  Consul. 
"  He  says,  '  While  the  Shogun  governs  by  the  ancient 
laws  I  am  his  subject,  but  when  he  departs  from  them 
my  allegiance  ceases.'  ' 

This  meant  no  end  of  troubles.  The  great  strain 
of  it  threw  the  American  Consul  into  a  fever,  increas 
ing  the  devotion  and  solicitude  of  Moryama.  But  the 
treaty,  the  precious  treaty  was  ready,  when  Perry's  old 
flagship,  the  "  Mississippi,"  brought  secret  word  to  the 
American  Consul,  —  "  The  allied  fleets  of  Great  Britain, 
France,  and  Russia  are  sailing  to  Yedo  Bay." 

"  Must  you  have  a  fleet  and  cannon-balls  for  argu 
ments?"  demanded  Harris  from  his  sick  bed.  "You 
must  open  Japan,  or  the  navies  of  the  earth  will  be 
thundering  at  your  gate.  Sign  at  once,  and  save 
yourselves." 

And  li  Kamon,  summoned  in  this  crisis  to  the  Shogun- 
ate,  did  what  no  other  Japanese  dared,  —  he  signed 
Japan's  first  treaty  of  commerce  with  a  foreign  land. 


MORYAMA    YENOSKE  301 

When  the  fleets  came  in,  all  was  accomplished.  "  Gentle 
men,  we  have  a  treaty  with  the  United  States,"  said 
li  Kamon.  England,  France,  Russia,  and  twenty  nations 
after  them  followed  with  treaties  in  rapid  succession,  all 
based  on  that  first  one,  made  by  the  American  Consul 
and  Moryama  Yenoske.  But  it  lost  li  Kamon  his  head, 
at  the  assassin  hand  of  the  Prince  of  Mito,  who  would 
be  Shogun.  It  ended  the  Shogunate,  and  restored  the 
Mikado,  imprisoned  and  invisible  for  two  hundred  and 
fifty  years.  In  the  outcome,  the  boy,  Mutsu  Hito,  six 
teen  years  of  age,  came  to  the  throne,  and  rules  to 
this  day,  fifty  years  from  the  opening  of  Japan.  In 
the  new  order  Yedo  became  the  Tokio,  the  national 
capital. 

But  a  glimpse  Ranald  McDonald  caught  of  the  later 
history  of  his  pupils,  Dutch  and  English  interpreters  for 
Perry,  Lord  Elgin,  and  Sir  Rutherford  Alcock  in  cement 
ing  far-reaching  national  friendships.  The  names  of 
those  interpreters  are  linked  with  every  State  paper  con 
nected  with  the  opening  of  Japan.  While  Ranald  was 
tossing  in  Indian  seas,  Moryama  Yenoske,  promoted 
to  confidential  assistant  of  the  Minister  of  Foreign 
Affairs,  translated  into  Japanese  all  treaties  from  Com 
modore  Perry's  for  America  down  to  Count  Eulenberg's 
for  Prussia  in  1860. 

Indefatigable  as  secretary  and  interpreter,  Moryama 
became  indispensable  in  future  negotiations  with  the  civi 
lized  world.  As  the  most  intelligent,  most  trusted,  and 
best  informed  officer  in  Japan,  in  March,  1862,  Moryama 
Yenoske  sailed  with  the  British  Minister,  Sir  Rutherford 
Alcock,  for  England,  as  the  bearer  of  confidential  de 
spatches  to  Europe.  Wonderful  was  the  trust  in  his 
fidelity,  in  this,  the  greatest  innovation  in  Japan.  In 
five  days  after  his  appointment  Moryama  was  ready,  and 
happy  to  go.  With  a  second  attendant,  who  spoke  no 
wrord  of  any  European  tongue,  Moryama  set  forth  into 
that  mysterious  ocean  that  so  long  had  hemmed  in  their 
little  world.  Notwithstanding  all  their  Indian  stoicism, 
reserve,  and  self-possession,  Moryama  and  his  friend 


302  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

could  not  conceal  from  the  British  Minister  their  aston 
ishment,  as  one  by  one  he  pointed  out  the  chain  of  British 
colonies  circling  the  globe.  At  Hong  Kong,  Singapore, 
Aden,  surprise  and  intelligent  observation  kept  them 
alert. 

"  And  here  we  will  go  ashore,"  said  Sir  Rutherford, 
at  Malta.  The  Governor  sent  an  officer  to  show  them 
the  fortifications. 

"  And  what  do  you  think  of  this  place?  "  inquired  Sir 
Rutherford  on  their  return. 

Deeply  impressed  Moryama  had  been  with  its  strength. 

"  It  is  only  a  small  island,  of  no  importance  as  a 
colony,"  casually  remarked  Sir  Rutherford. 

"  Ah,"  rejoined  Moryama,  with  more  emphasis  than 
usual  to  him,  "  a  small  place  to  you,  but  to  us  —  "  He 
left  the  phrase  unfinished. 

While  abroad,  Moryama  visited  all  the  governments 
with  which  Japan  had  treaties,  including  the  United 
States,  and  his  history  can  be  traced  in  the  pages  of 
diplomats.  "  Described,  sketched,  and  photographed  " 
by  every  envoy  that  visited  Japan  fifty  years  ago,  it  is 
difficult  to  estimate  how  much  Japan  owes  to  the  ready 
pen,  linguistic  skill,  and  keen  intelligence  of  Moryama 
Yenoske,  the  favorite  pupil  of  Ranald  McDonald. 


BOOK     IV 
KAMIAKIN 


BOOK    IV 

KAMIAKIN 

I 

STILL  ASIAWARD 

FIFTY  thousand  Americans  were  on  the  plains  when 
Perry  was  preparing  for  Japan,  moving  into 
strange  wild  lands,  completing  the  circle  of  the 
world.  Ominous  wheels  crunched  the  bones  of  dead  buf 
faloes.  The  world  grew  larger,  the  skies  higher,  the  air 
thinner,  the  sun  farther  away,  the  horizon  more  distant, 
the  silences  more  stupendous.  A  few  scattered  graves, 
marked,  "  Killed  by  Indians,"  introduced  the  tonic  that 
keyed  up  courage  and  loaded  rifles  afresh  after  the  buf 
falo  hunt.  On  the  borders  of  Omaha  naked  savages, 
with  strings  of  ripe  black  crickets,  collected  toll  as  the 
pilgrims  passed  into  the  tall  grass  of  -the  yellow  Platte. 
"  Toll,  toll ! "  At  the  junction  of  the  Elkhorn,  with 
bows  and  arrows  and  guns,  Pawnees  intercepted  the 
crossing. 

"  It  will  be  all  right,"  gestured  the  chief,  "'if  you  pay 
a  cow." 

"  Only  a  cow  ? "  Thankfully  it  was  paid  and  the 
emigrants  hurried  on. 

"  Pay,  pay !  "  At  the  Loup  '  a  hideous  horde  bore 
down  with  brandishing  tomahawks. 

"How  much?" 

"  Five  dollars  a  head." 

"  'T  is  robbery.     We  '11  fight  first." 

"  Give  me  your  money,  boys,  I  will  see  what  I  can  do." 
Purse  in  hand,  the  wife  of  Dr.  Weatherford  walked  out 
and  interviewed  the  chief. 

20 


306  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

11  Yes,  he  will  let  us  pass  for  fifty  cents  a  wagon,'* 
she  returned.  As  the  mud-begrimed  wains  ascended  the 
bank  beyond,  a  mourning  party  were  burying  their  dead 
after  a  battle  at  that  very  crossing. 

Fort  Kearney  had  been  erected  for  the  protection  of 
emigrants.  Toward  it  swept  a  squad  of  soldiers  at  a 
gallop. 

"  Indians/'  floated  the  warning  from  hurrying 
horsemen. 

There  was  a  panic,  women  weeping  and  pleading, 
children  wailing,  men  tired,  wet,  sick,  and  discouraged, 
wishing  they  had  never  heard  of  Oregon.  "  We  must 
return,  it  is  useless  to  go  forward."  But  a  little  woman 
of  name  unknown  and  lineage  forgotten  stepped  out  on 
a  wagon  wheel.  The  wind  blew  her  locks  backward,  her 
voice  was  thin  and  penetrating. 

"  Did  you  all  start  out  on  a  pleasure  journey,  my 
friends,  that  you  turn  back  at  the  first  note  of  opposition  ? 
How  many  weapons  are  there  in  this  train?  how  many 
brave  hands  to  wield  them?  Turn  back  to  what,  with 
our  homes  sold  and  our  hearthfires  cold?  No,  I  have 
started  for  Oregon,  and  I  intend  to  get  there.  Have  we 
not  known  Indians?  When  have  they  prevailed  against 
us?  Is  the  new  land  to  be  reached  without  some  effort? 
I  say,  let  us  go  on !  "  And  stepping  back  she  cracked 
her  whip  and  led  the  train. 

Tears  were  dried.  Men  picked  up  their  reins.  "  Who 
said  anything  about  going  back?  Not  I."  "Nor  I." 
"  Nor  I."  Fears  fled,  discontent  vanished,  and  the 
column  moved  on  to  Fort  Kearney. 

The  Pawnees  were  flying  for  life  to  Fort  Kearney,  — 
Sioux  and  Cheyennes  were  on  their  track.  The  last 
winter  Sioux  and  Pawnees  had  herded  five  hundred 
thousand  buffalo  on  the  Platte ;  a  quarrel  arose,  and  now 
they  were  fighting  to  the  death. 

Seldom  were  the  trains  out  of  sight  of  grazing  herds, 
but  where  was  time  to  hunt  ?  "  Bciuare  of  Indians  here," 
buffalo  skull  placards  perched  up  in  the  ground  by  their 
own  horns  stared  along  the  Platte.  Along  the  great 
highway  from  Omaha  to  Laramie  bones  and  bones 


STILL   ASIAWARD  307 

bleached  white  as  paper  were  the  post  offices,  the  news 
papers,  scribbled  all  over  with  pencilled  histories,  with 
announcements,  farewells,  and  directions  to  grass  and 
water.  But  one  day  the  "  Bone  Express  "  gave  out  a 
new  bulletin,  —  "  Look  out  for  Cholera." 

The  sun  rode  higher  in  the  heavens,  meat  tainted 
quicker,  pallid  lightnings  sheeted  the  surcharged  sky,  and 
peals  of  cloudless  electricity  shook  hill  and  heaven  with 
deep-toned  cannonade.  But  no  drop  of  rain  quenched 
the  torrid  drouth  that  was  beginning  to  stagnate  the 
summer  streams.  Sirocco  winds  burnt  the  grass  and 
withered  the  very  air.  No  thirst  could  be  quenched  with 
the  shallow  ooze  of  the  warm  and  lazy  trailing  Platte. 

Hark!  an  agonized  scream  in  the  night,  a  move, 
a  rush,  a  hush,  and  a  stillness  betokening  the  pres 
ence  of  terror.  At  daylight  a  hole  was  dug,  and  a 
captain  was  buried  with  only  the  wild  beast  to  howl 
his  requiem. 

"  Drive  for  your  lives,  —  it  is,  it  is  the  cholera! " 

Dread  warning.  Out  of  Asiatic  jungles  by  the 
"  Preble,"  to  California,  to  Mexico,  to  the  Gulf,  like  a 
wing  of  Black  Death  it  had  come,  hovering  unseen. 
The  very  contagion  the  Japanese  feared,  the  "  Preble  " 
had  brought  from  China.  Wagons,  beds,  bedding, 
whole  household  equipments  that  no  man,  not  even  an 
Indian,  would  touch,  fell  heaped  and  abandoned  by  the 
roadside.  Night  sentinels  guarding  cattle  in  the  prairies 
came  in  at  dawn  to  find  the  dead  in  rows  awaiting  inter 
ment.  In  shallow  graves  by  the  sandy  Platte  they  laid 
them;  and  as  the  fleeing  living  glanced  back,  fierce 
troops  of  snarling  wolves  were  seen  swooping  and  fight 
ing  to  disinter.  Vultures  scenting  carrion  hovered  above, 
and  the  sun  blazed  on,  in  its  sky  of  brass.  About  Lar- 
amie  and  eastward  the  vast  plain  was  a  veritable  field 
of  battle  as  heroic  hearts  went  down  one  after  another 
before  the  Asiatic  horror.  Out  of  fifty  thousand  people 
ten  thousand  perished. 

More  and  more  rugged  wound  the  trail  up  Laramie 
and  the  Rockies;  cool  and  delicious  the  Sweetwater 
rolled  from  unpolluted  snows,  and  the  scourge  stayed. 


308  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

At  Green  River  twenty  thousand  souls  turned  off  to 
Oregon,  thirty  thousand  to  golden  California.  "  Pa 
tience,  children,  we  shall  soon  reach  the  ocean."  Oh, 
the  ocean!  that  blessed  Pacific,  a  thousand  miles  yet, 
but  they  knew  it  not.  It  was  of  no  use  for  children  to 
cry  of  weariness  in  the  desolate  land ;  endurance,  endur 
ance  was  the  safeguard  of  man  and  beast.  What  if 
some  were  falling?  The  ranks  must  close  up  and  march 
on,  on. 

"  Crossing  the  plains  is  like  life,"  said  a  woman  of  '52. 
"  You  never  know  what  is  before  you  until  you  come 
to  it." 

Through  sand  and  sage,  with  faces  black  as  whites 
could  get,  wives  continued  by  their  husbands'  sides. 
Boys  and  girls  drove  the  lagging  cattle,  the  cuticle  of 
their  bare  little  brown  feet  so  tanned  and  hardened  they 
could  dance  on  the  cactus  unharmed. 

"  Ten  dollars  for  a  glass  of  water !  "  Ten  miles  a 
team  drove  ahead,  brought  back  the  water  and  sold  it. 
Three  miles  away  Oregon-bound  cattle  scented  the  River 
Snake  and,  stampeding,  hundreds  rushed  uncontrollably 
into  the  flood,  head  first,  to  drown  and  float  away. 
Others  stood  in  the  cool  waves  and  drank,  and  drank, 
until  they  died. 

"  Beware  of  marauding  Snake  Indians  led  by  a  rene 
gade  Canadian,"  warned  the  officials  at  Fort  Hall.  "  Last 
year  they  killed  thirty-four  people,  and  stole  eighteen 
thousand  dollars'  worth  of  property  from  emigrants 
passing  through  their  country." 

Could  that  have  been  Jemmy  Jock?  Back  on  the  trail 
some  remembered  a  handsome  chief,  sitting  with  his  four 
wives  on  a  high  elevation,  watching  the  crossing  at 
Ham's  fork  of  Bear  River.  His  features  were  fine  and 
Grecian;  he  wore  a  crest  of  feathers  and  a  war  cloak; 
his  long  beautiful  ringlets  shook  as  he  scowled  at  the 
passing  companies. 

Loaded  to  the  water's  edge  with  wagons,  teams,  people, 
slowly  the  barges  floated  down  the  Columbia.  Strange 
melodies  sounded  on  the  night  wave,  -  -  "  Row,  brothers, 
row,"  or,  "  Home,  sweet  home,"  —  while  teardrops  fell 


STILL   ASIAWARD  309 

like  rain.  Sometimes  the  sight  of  a  ship  came  like  a 
message  flashed  from  contiguous  Asia.  For  had  not 
Commodore  Perry  gone  to  Japan?  Every  heart  was 
alive  for  news  of  Perry.  Some  pictured  Japan  in  arms, 
countless  war  junks  and  innumerable  forts,  the  coast  all 
set  with  guns  and  a  million  soldiers  facing  Perry.  And 
some  talked  of  treaties,  and  a  commerce  that  should 
carry  Oregon  crops  to  Japan.  The  past  was  behind, 
with  funeral  bells  tolling  for  Webster  and  Henry  Clay. 
The  past  was  behind,  with  those  graves  on  the  Platte. 
Before  lay  the  future,  with  Asia,  the  Pacific,  and  a  canal 
across  Panama.  As  the  drifting  scows  passed  Van 
couver,  Colonel  Bonneville  was  laying  out  a  United 
States  military  reserve  on  the  old  Hudson  Bay  grounds, 
and  Lieutenant  Ulysses  S.  Grant  was  training  wild  horses 
in  McLoughlin's  old  wheat  fields. 

"  What  have  I  not  suffered  to  bring  my  children  to  a 
God-forsaken  country  ?  "  groaned  an  immigrant,  as  with 
wife  dead,  children  sick,  and  himself  penniless,  he  reached 
a  camp  on  the  spot  where  Portland's  railroad  station 
stands  to-day.  Sodden  was  the  earth,  dripping  were  the 
forests,  frightful  torrents  dashed  down  ravines,  and  the 
soughing  of  firs  blended  with  the  panther's  cry. 

"  Beg  pardon,  stranger,  't  is  God's  country.    Look !  " 

Into  the  mist  and  rain  all  Portland- was  turning,  cart, 
carriage,  and  wheelbarrow,  to  take  in  the  immigrants. 
Ladies  in  silks  sent  for  little  ragged  children;  men  and 
women  in  homespun  burnished  their  hearths  for  a  grand 
reception;  not  even  a  dog  or  a  bundle  of  baggage  was 
forgotten  as  Portland  flung  open  her  joyful  doors. 

"  Another  such  immigration,  and  Oregon  will  be 
knocking  for  statehood,"  proudly  Governor  Curry  pro 
claimed,  hurrying  out  the  best  welcome  of  his  territory. 
Hundreds  of  miles,  to  the  Grande  Roncle  of  the  Blue 
Mountains,  to  the  Dalles,  the  Barlow  Gate,  and  along 
the  Columbia,  Portland  merchants  and  farmers  and  vil 
lagers  of  every  settlement  were  sending  beef,  flour,  and 
fresh  teams  to  haul  in  the  racked  and  battered  schooners 
that  had  navigated  a  continent. 

On  every  hand  might  be  heard  booming  blasts,  not 


310          MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

of  war  but  of  peace,  blowing  up  gigantic  stumps  and 
opening  highways  —  for  these  wagons  of  '52.  Portland 
was  becoming  a  city.  And  some  were  looking  to  Puget 
Sound,  the  ever-alluring  prospect  "  a  little  farther  on." 


II 

THE   CHIEF  THAT   FOUNDED   A  CITY 

"  T"  OOK !  "  cried  Arthur  Armstrong  Denny ;  "  yon  bay 
is  black  with  ducks.  I  am  going  exploring. 

-I — ^  David,  take  care  of  the  family." 

With  a  rueful  look  David  Denny,  who  had  cut  his 
foot,  saw  his  brother  depart  with  the  family  clothesline 
and  a  bunch  of  horseshoes  to  make  the  first  soundings  of 
Seattle  Harbor.  But  why  should  David  repine?  Was 
not  Louisa  there,  a  younger  sister  of  his  brother's  wife, 
singing  like  the  birds  outside  as  she  flew  about  the  cabin  ? 
They  had  been  lovers  on  the  plains,  were  lovers  still, 
waiting  only  work  and  a  wedding  to  build  a  separate 
cabin.  And  so  his  discontent  was  tempered  while  the 
rest  explored  Seattle  Harbor.  In  two  weeks  the  settlers, 
Denny,  Bell,  and  Boren,  had  picked  their  claims,  to  be 
recorded  in  the  far-away  land  office  at  Oregon  City. 
But  look !  who  is  that  coming  up  to  Alki  Point  ? 

The  wind  was  squally.  It  struck  a  sail  and  a  frail 
bark  dipped.  Every  hand  was  on  the  paddle,  deep  in  the 
water  each  blade  broadside  swept  toward  the  reeling  craft 
and  turned  her  up,  lifting  the  sail  back  into  the  wind. 
Who  could  fear  when  Angeline  was  at  the  bow,  the 
deftest  klootchman  in  all  the  Puget  waters? 

Ah,  old  Seattle  spied  something!  the  paddles  dropped 
as  he  shaded  his  eyes  to  look  at  that  group  of  cabins 
on  Alki  Point.  The  venerable  chief  of  the  Duwamish 
had  been  telling  Dr.  Maynard  tales  of  ahncutty  —  long 
time  ago.  Yonder,  once  came  the  Northmen  down, 


THE   CHIEF  THAT   FOUNDED  A   CITY     311 

sweeping  away  an  entire  Indian  village  at  Alki  Point. 
Since  then  the  red  men  had  avoided  the  spot  as  danger 
ous  and  accursed.  On  that  day  a  chief's  daughter  lost 
her  lover  and  her  life  rather  than  be  carried  away  cap 
tive.  That,  too,  was  where  a  famous  fisherman  caught 
a  sturgeon  that  ran  away  with  him  and  his  canoe,  never 
to  be  seen  again.  The  place  was  haunted. 

Again  Angeline  spoke,  "  Hyac,  hyaku,  hike!  "  ("  Now, 
now,  hurry!"),  as  spying  her  own  people  she  sent  the 
canoe  spinning  up  to  the  headland  where  a  handful  of 
adventurers  had  made  a  temporary  landing.  "  New 
York  of  the  Pacific,"  Charles  Terry  had  dubbed  it. 

"  Alki''  laughed  his  comrades,  "  Chinook  for  by- 
and-bye." 

1  Yes,  New  York  by-and-bye,"  gravely  Terry  amended 
the  name. 

"  The  wind  is  foul  to-day,"  said  Seattle,  gazing  in 
amaze  at  the  haunted  headland.  For  people  were  there. 
Already  he  saw  Indians  waiting  to  catch  his  canoe  as  it 
rode  in  on  the  breakers.  For  days  beacons  of  beach 
drift  had  been  burning  on  that  point,  signalling  Seattle, 
who  would  be  coming  home  from  his  winter  camp  at 
Olympia.  The  old  chief,  as  usual,  was  bringing  up  a 
white  man  to  look  at  his  country,  now  to  find  that  in 
his  absence  the  whites  had  already  penetrated  the  secluded 
vale  of  Duwamish,  and  around  them  for  protection  his 
people  had  clustered.  Cowed  by  warlike  tribes  of  the 
North,  the  red  men  of  Puget  Sound  felt  their  day  of 
deliverance  at  hand. 

With  slight  attention  to  the  keen,  observant  chief,  the 
colonists  welcomed  Dr.  Maynard.  Clean-shaven,  blue- 
eyed,  pleasant,  and  loquacious,  "  I  really  came  for  the 
fisheries,"  he  explained.  "  Seattle  brought  me  last  year, 
and  we  camped ;  but  now  with  neighbors,  I  '11  stay." 

Along  with  the  others  Maynard's  claim  was  staked 
in  the  bend  of  the  bay.  "  Now  what  shall  we  call  our 
town  ? "  Facing  the  blue,  Denny,  Bell,  Boren,  and 
Maynard  consulted. 

*  The  Indians  call  this  place  Tsehalalitch,"  answered 
Denny,  "  but  that  is  too  long  and  cumbersome." 


312  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"How  would   Elliott  do?"   suggested   Bell.     "That 
is  what  Commodore  Wilkes  named  this  bay." 
'  Why  not  Seattle?  "  suggested  Dr.  Maynard. 

"  Seattle !  "  with  one  accord  they  shouted,  "  for  the 
friendly  old  chief  who  has  made  it  possible  for  us  to 
locate  here." 

Berries,  fish,  game,  potatoes,  Seattle's  people  brought, 
enormous  potatoes  of  their  own  raising,  planted  in  little 
gardens  under  the  trees  with  Hudson  Bay  seed. 

"  I  don't  know  what  we  should  do  if  it  were  n't  for 
these  Indians,"  David  Denny  often  declared.  "  We 
might  have  to  live  on  clams,  and  dig  them  ourselves." 

But  June  brought  fish  by  thousands,  salmon,  so  fat 
they  swam  in  grease,  and  shoals  of  herring,  sturgeon, 
cod,  and  halibut.  All  day  long,  Indian  children  sported 
on  the  beach,  and  busy  mothers  fed  smoky  fires  where 
the  clams  baked  brown. 

"  Never  any  danger  of  famine  if  caught  out  o'  nights," 
said  David.  Taught  by  old  Angeline,  he  had  reduced 
clam-baking  to  a  science.  With  the  best  of  warriors 
now  he  could  trail  the  bear  and  stalk  the  deer,  snare 
the  salmon  and  lure  the  seal,  proudly  laying  his  trophies 
at  the  feet  of  Louisa  Boren.  What  if  voices  of  the  night 
rose  from  clouds  of  owls  hooting  in  the  hollows,  and  the 
panther  cry,  springing  upon  his  prey?  What  if  howls 
of  wolves  reverberated  from  lake  to  canyon,  and  the 
deer  with  heaving  flanks  and  luminous  eyes  burst  his 
heart  and  died  before  the  wolf  could  tear  him?  David 
knew  it  not  when  he  talked  with  Louisa,  and  the  lake  was 
far  away,  a  land  unexplored,  two  miles  back  of  Seattle. 
Clusters  of  rose-hued  rhododendrons  ten  and  twelve  feet 
high  perfumed  the  woods  where  David  walked  with 
Louisa. 

"  My  brother  wishes  me  to  go  on  the  '  Exact '  to 
Portland  after  our  cattle,"  said  David.  "  Will  you  marry 
me  when  I  return?  " 

The  chatter  of  a  squirrel,  the  whir  of  a  partridge,  the 
tap,  tap  of  a  gay-hued  yellow-hammer  alone  broke  the 
sombre  silence  of  Seattle  harbor  as  this  first  pair  of 
lovers  stopped,  silent,  in  the  forest. 


YESLER  313 

"  David,  is  that  a  cushion  of  moss  on  yonder  limb,  or 
—  a  cougar  ?  " 

David  glanced  up.  Two  eyes  gleamed  like  green 
lights,  a  long  tail  lashed  to  and  fro.  Scarce  hearing  the 
snarl  that  followed,  they  fled. 

The  "  Exact "  was  back  from  Queen  Charlotte's, 
whither  she  had  gone  on  a  rumor  that  John  Work 
had  discovered  gold. 

Well  enough  everybody  knew  that  Governor  Work,  as 
the  Americans  called  him,  was  at  Nisqually,  in  fact  was 
temporarily  in  charge;  for  Dr.  Tolmie  had  been  called 
post-haste  to  Olympia  to  release  the  steamer  "  Beaver  " 
and  the  brigantine  "  Mary  Dare,"  held  in  durance  by  the 
Puget  Sound  custom-house  officers. 

"  For  smuggling,  sir,  just  plain  smuggling,"  Colonel 
Ebey  said.  "  Did  n't  they  stop  several  hours  at  Fort 
Nisqually  and  land  their  passengers  and  baggage  without 
saying  so  much  as  '  by  your  leave '  at  this  custom 
house?  " 

Had  Governor  John  Work  been  a  swearing  man  he 
might  have  uttered  a  few  oaths  about  this  time,  for  the 
passengers  were  himself,  his  wife,  and  younger  daugh 
ters,  on  a  visit  to  his  first  grandchild  at  Fort  Nisqually. 
Trouble,  such  trouble  this  new  custom-house  made  for 
the  Hudson  Bay  people,  accustomed  to  go  and  come  at 
will  in  these  waters. 


in    ;» 

YESLER 

""¥T  T  HERE  are  you  going?" 

V/V        "Klo-nass"   ("I  don't  know")'. 

Angeline,  steerswoman  in  a  mere  cockle  of 
a  canoe,  safe  in  her  hands,  wrapped  her  scarlet  shawl 
higher  about  her  head  to  shut  off  the  smoke  that  blew 


3H  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

out  from  Seattle.  All  day  long  men  were  cutting  and 
burning,  slashing  in  the  woods,  and  rolling  up  logs  for 
Yesler's  new  sawmill. 

"  San  Francisco  is  burned  down,"  was  the  word  from 
below.  "  Sacramento  is  in  ashes."  Then  came  great 
days  for  Puget  Sound  lumber  camps.  For  a  long  time 
a  northeast  wind  had  blown  from  Mt.  Baker,  as  cold 
winds  from  the  Apennines  roll  down  on  Florence,  but 
to-day  the  balmy  Chinook,  perfumed  and  odorous,  per 
vaded,  flowed,  enwrapped  with  a  sense  of  eternal  spring 
time.  It  was  heat,  warmth,  comfort,  not  wind.  The 
shivering  Indians  had  been  watching  for  it. 

"It  always  comes  in  the  night  time,"  said  Seattle; 
"  it  blew  into  the  door  of  the  wigwam.  It  comes  from 
over  the  sea."  Shipmasters  called  it  a  Japanese  trade- 
wind.  And  many  shipmasters  were  coming  now  to 
Yesler's  mill.  Indeed,  the  citizens  thought  Seattle,  with 
its  little  row  of  shanties  along  a  neck  of  woods,  with  the 
tide  running  up  into  the  very  streets,  was  already  the 
business  centre  of  the  Sound. 

"  What !  a  town  on  these  rough  hills  of  stumps  and 
sawdust  ?  "  laughed  the  incredulous. 

"  But  Rome  was  built  on  just  such  hills,"  said  Terry  — 
New  York  by-and-bye  had  come  over  to  Seattle.  Who 
could  guess  that  in  fifty  years  trains  of  people  would  pass 
under  those  hills,  honeycombing  the  earth,  while  palatial 
homes  sunned  upon  the  summits  ?  And  Yesler  had  come. 
People  were  always  coming  to  Seattle,  piloted  by  the  old 
chief,  who  was  still  an  active  real  estate  agent.  Out  of 
that  cholera  train  of  '52  Henry  L.  Yesler  had  come  from 
Portland,  looking  for  a  location  for  a  steam  sawmill  on 
tidewater  with  a  world  of  timber  behind  and  a  world 
before  for  a  market. 

"  There."  Chief  Seattle  pointed  to  a  bunch  of  men 
cutting  spars  in  a  canyon.  With  axe,  saw,  and  knife  in 
hand  they  welcomed  him. 

"  You  have  come  to  the  spot,"  said  Arthur  A.  Denny, 
inviting  the  stranger  to  dine  in  his  fir-log  cabin,  with  a 
door  that  looked  on  the  sea,  and  a  window  that  looked  on 
woods,  woods,  the  mightiest  forest  in  the  world.  "  The 


YESLER  315 

Pacific  is  ours,  and  Seattle  is  exactly  in  the  heart  of  the 
timber." 

"But  labor?" 

"  Indians,  and  every  white  man  will  turn  in  to  help 
you." 

To  think  was  to  do  in  Seattle.  Seven  dwellers  in  log 
cabins  close  to  the  shore  readjusted  their  claims  so  that 
Yesler  could  come  in  among  them  and  put  up  his  sawmill. 
And  now  in  March  of  '53,  while  the  soft  south  wind  was 
blowing  and  the  smoke  was  flying,  the  first  load  of  lumber 
was  ready  for  market. 

All  day  the  puffing  and  buzzing  and  blowing  at  Yes- 
ler's  mill  made  music  on  Puget  Sound.  All  the  clocks 
in  Seattle  were  regulated  by  Yesler's  steam  whistle. 
Yesler's  long,  low,  rambling  cook-house,  where  he 
boarded  his  mill  hands,  became  town-hall,  court-room, 
meeting-house  and  hotel.  The  whole  settlement  congre 
gated  there  evenings  to  hear  and  tell  the  news.  And 
there  began  to  be  news.  Not  by  the  steamers  "  Beaver  " 
and  "  Otter  "  that  occasionally  might  be  seen  passing 
to  and  from  Nisqually,  not  even  yet  to  any  appreciable 
extent  by  the  canoe  express  from  Portland,  when  Robert 
Moxlie  and  his  Indian  crew  brought  the  mail  once  a 
week  at  twenty-five  cents  a  letter,  but  from  their  own 
legislative  representatives  who  brought  back  food  for 
many  an  evening's  entertainment. 

In  wolfskin  caps,  Denny,  Maynard,  Terry,  and  Bell 
had  paddled  to  a  convention  of  their  own,  petitioning 
for  a  division  from  Oregon  into  the  independent  Territory 
of  Columbia.  General  Joe  Lane  had  promised  to  push 
the  memorial  in  Congress.  But  in  March,  Congress 
passed  a  bill  creating  the  new  Territory  of  Washington. 
Washington !  the  name  came  as  'a  shock.  But  after  all 
was  it  not  the  daring  little  sloop,  the  "  Lady  Washing 
ton,"  the  consort  of  the  gallant  "  Columbia  "  itself,  that 
first  sailed  these  waters,  before  even  Vancouver  had 
named  them  for  Lieutenant  Peter  Puget?  And  what 
honor  that  the  very  uttermost  Territory  of  the  Pacific 
northwest  should  be  christened  for  the  Father  of  his 
Country!  At  least  the  Dennys  were  satisfied.  Was  it 


3i 6  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

not  unbroken  tradition  that  both  their  Scotch-Irish  grand 
fathers  fought  in  the  Revolution,  and  one  had  belonged 
to  Washington's  own  command  at  Braddock's  defeat? 
In  honor  of  the  event  David  and  Louisa  —  the  first  bride 
of  Seattle  —  planted  rhododendrons  around  a  cabin  of 
their  own. 


IV 

AN   OREGON   RIVAL 

I  WOULD  go  to  the  Sound,  — but  the  Cowlitz!" 
Immigrants  from  Portland  paused  with  a  shiver. 
A  lion  in  the  path  was  this  truly  formidable  river, 
swollen  by  the  snows  of  Rainier  rushing  and  foaming. 
Difficult  was  it  for  canoes  to  force  themselves  up  from 
below,  and  families  waited  until  almost  summer  for  the 
floods  to  abate.  Every  day  at  length,  skiffs,  canoes,  and 
bateaux  big  enough  to  carry  eight  or  ten  families  with 
their  wagons,  chains,  and  oxen  ventured  out  with  youth 
and  age  commingled,  to  dare  the  terrific  torrents  and  the 
gloomy  woods.  In  three  days  a  bateau  manned  by  ex 
pert  Indians  could  bring  up  such  a  load.  Old  ex-Hudson 
Bay  employes  of  the  Cowlitz,  too,  found  employment. 

"  Fifty  songs  a  day  are  nothing  to  us,"  laughed  Plo- 
mondon  and  his  voyageurs,  boastful  of  their  prowess. 
"  We  can  carry,  paddle,  walk,  or  sing  with  any  man,  over 
rapids,  over  cascades,  over  chutes,"  and  away  they  toiled 
up  the  turbulent  river  with  the  newly  arriving  Americans 
in  the  Spring  of  '53. 

The  first  log  house  on  Cowlitz  Prairie  had  been  built 
by  Simon  Plomondon.  When  his  contract  expired  for 
erecting  the  wooden  forts  of  the  district,  Dr.  McLoughlin 
sent  him  there,  gave  him  permission  to  take  up  land, 
loaned  him  animals,  and  ordered  the  Indians  not  to 
molest.  Now  Plomondon  had  become  an  important  man ; 
his  Indian  wife  was  dead,  and  he  had  married  the  bishop's 


AN    OREGON    RIVAL  317 

sister.  He  had  signed  the  petition  for  an  independent 
Territory,  and  was  coining  money  on  the  river. 

Quite  a  group  of  his  Canadian  countrymen  had  gath 
ered  around  Plomondon,  devoted  Catholics,  who  sang 
matins  and  vespers  and  had  images  of  saints  about  their 
rooms.  Great  bearskin  mats  lay  on  their  floors,  the 
pillow-cases  were  trimmed  with  ruffles  and  lace,  and  the 
babies  swung  in  hammocks  hung  from  the  ceiling.  And 
out,  opposite  their  doors,  Mt.  St.  Helens  threw  a  column 
of  dark  smoke  into  the  blue  sky. 

"  Roads,  roads,"  was  the  crying  need  of  the  new 
country.  "  See !  the  immigrants  turn  aside  to  the  new 
road  over  the  base  of  Mount  Hood  into  the  Willamette 
valley.  We,  too,  must  have  a  road.  The  Cowlitz  route 
is  too  slow  and  dangerous.  The  only  way  to  bring 
flocks  and  herds  is  to  have  a  highway  across  the  moun 
tains  and  down  the  Yakima  to  intersect  the  continental 
road  pouring  people  into  Oregon." 

Since  the  days  of  their  immemorial  fathers  the  Indians 
of  the  Sound  had  known  of  a  pass  over  the  mountains 
into  eastern  Oregon,  so  they  had  told  the  first  colonists 
at  Alki  Point,  —  that  was  one  reason  for  removing  to 
the  east  side  of  the  bay.  Old  Sagamore  Seattle  knew, 
for  over  that  trail  to  the  sea  had  not  the  Yakimas  come 
on  their  spotted  horses  to  worry  and  annoy? 

Those  Yakima  Klikitats,  —  Yakima  robbers,  —  bright, 
animated,  full  of  life  and  fire,  knew  the  mountains,  knew 
every  path  of  the  forest  on  the  west,  knew  the  dense 
Nachess  on  top  of  the  mountains,  and  the  precipices 
and  cliffs  down  the  eastern  slope  into  Kamiakin's 
country. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  Americans  can  go  anywhere  with  a 
wagon  that  our  trappers  can  go  with  a  packhorse," 
laughed  Dr.  Tolmie,  when  asked  if  he  considered  the 
Nachess  Pass  feasible. 

"  Yes,  practicable  for  a  wagon  route,"  said  John  Mont 
gomery,  a  Hudson  Bay  employe  who  had  a  Yakima  wife 
and  had  traversed  that  trail  to  Fort  Walla  Walla  on 
the  Columbia. 

In  the  Summer  of  1850  Colonel  Simmons  had  solicited 


318  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

contributions,  and  at  the  head  of  a  few  resolute  young 
men  had  set  out  to  hew  a  highway  to  the  Sound.  But 
too  great  was  the  stupendous  task.  Now  all  Washington 
gathered  up  its  forces,  Dr.  Tolmie  himself  subscribed 
a  hundred  dollars,  and  Lafayette  Balch  of  Steilacoom 
gave  a  lot  in  his  new  town  to  every  man  that  started 
to  work  on  that  popular  "  People's  Road,"  into  Western 
Washington.  Immigrants  trying  to  get  their  log  cabins 
built  and  first  crops  in,  and  some  still  living  in  tents, 
went  out  to  work  on  the  mountain  thoroughfare.  Some 
donated  provisions,  and  fifty  red-shirted  young  men 
started  cutting  into  the  forest  on  the  east  edge  of 
Nisqually  Plains. 

"You  no  pay?  I  no  pay.  Take  them,"  said  Leschi, 
when  asked  to  loan  horses  to  carry  provisions  to  the 
road  builders;  and  Quiemuth,  the  brother  of  Leschi,  led 
ten  pack  animals  with  blankets  and  provisions  up  into 
the  mountains. 

"  We  must  do  it,"  said  the  Puget  Sounders,  "  or  all 
this  year's  immigration  will  go  again  into  the  Willamette 
valley."  There  was  great  jealousy  of  the  Willamette. 

The  Yakimas  with  skins,  furs,  and  horses  on  their 
annual  trading  trip  to  Nisqually,  heard  of  the  road, 
"  Boston  man  oo-i-hut"  and  laughed  immoderately, 
wheeling  their  frolicsome  steeds  under  the  oaks  of  Nis 
qually  Plains.  "  Oh-ho-ho-ho !  Boston  man  not  wise, 
Boston  man  not  take  wheels  over  the  mountains."  But 
Owhi,  chief  Lieutenant  of  Kamiakin,  scowled  as  he 
sucked  his  long  black  Haida  pipe,  emitting  the  smoke  in 
short,  hysterical  jerks.  Over  this  pass  Owhi's  son 
Qualchin  was  going  to  pilot  Theodore  Winthrop;  an 
American  soldier,  and  incidentally,  to  report  this  new 
Boston  deviltry  to  Kamiakin. 

"  What  you  white  man  want  to  get  'em  here?" 
screamed  a  Yakima  to  Winthrop.  "  Why  him  no  stay 
Boston  country  ?  Me  stay  my  country ;  no  ask  you  come 
here.  Too  much  soldier  man  go  all  round  everywhere. 
Too  much  make  pop-guns.  Him  say  kill  bird,  kill 
bear,  —  sometime  him  kill  Indian.  Soldier  man  too 
much  shut-eye,  open-eye  at  squaw." 


AN    OREGON    RIVAL  319 

Letitia  Work  looked  out  of  her  lattice  at  Fort  Nis- 
qually.  She  had  come  over  from  Victoria  in  the  same 
canoe  with  Winthrop.  He  had  whispered  soft  nothings 
in  her  ear,  but  she  heeded  not.  All  men  said  sweet  things 
to  Letitia.  Sometimes  she  wept  at  the  multitude  of  her 
admirers,  —  ship  captains,  American  officers,  and  Hud 
son  Bay  grandees,  all  captivated  by  the  pretty  face  and 
silken  gowns  of  Governor  Work's  handsome  daughter, 
who  mostly  now  made  her  home  with  her  sister  at  Nis- 
qually  Fort.  But  out  under  the  oaks  a  little  path  ran, 
hidden  with  syringa  thickets  and  other  sweet  shrubbery, 
—  "  Lovers'  Lane,"  a  few  called  it  who  knew,  —  where 
Letitia  walked  sometimes  with  the  new  clerk  at  Fort 
Nisqually. 

'  You  must  be  very  brave  to  travel  in  such  a  canoe,"  he 
had  said  at  the  landing.  "  They  are  easily  overbalanced 
and  unsafe  for  white  men  without  an  Indian  crew." 

"  But  I  had  an  Indian  crew ;  Jollibois's  wife  was 
corning  to  her  husband." 

A  slight  smile  on  Edward  Huggins's  lip  brought  a 
furious  color  to  Letitia's  face,  away  up  into  her  hair. 
"  Why  should  he  smile  ?  "  she  thought  to  herself.  "  After 
all  he  is  only  a  clerk,  and  am  not  I  a  Chief  Factor's 
daughter?" 

A  blonde  with  noble  figure,  with  firm,  plump,  white 
arms  just  escaping  from  her  silken  drapery,  no  wonder 
Letitia  Work  seemed  herself  a  flower  of  the  Maytime  as 
she  tripped  up-hill  to  the  fort,  leaving  the  squaws  to  drag 
in  the  boat  and  unload  the  baggage. 

"  May  I  assist  ?  "  Apparently  she  did  not  hear  Ed 
ward  Huggins,  who  now  fell  behind,  directing  the  women, 
a  dozen  klootchmen,  withered,  old,  and  wiry,  who  with 
their  short  paddles  and  leg-of-mutton  sail  had  sent  the 
sharp-nosed  war  canoe  into  the  sand  at  Nisqually.  Dr. 
Tolmie,  puffing,  with  blond  whiskers  blowing,  hurried 
up  just  in  time  to  join  her  at  the  gate. 

"If  that  clerk  had  been  gallant  he  would  have  helped 
you  in,"  he  said. 

"  If  you  had  been  gallant  you  would  have  directed,  the 
klootchmen,"  answered  Letitia  sweetly. 


320  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Work  left  Fort  Simpson  many  of 
the  Indians  mourned  their  departure,  and,  after  a  while, 
determined  to  follow  and  visit  their  sisters  and  daughters 
who  had  married  Canadians.  The  wives  of  Legacie, 
Jean  Baptiste  Jollibois,  and  Tom  Linklater  all  were 
North  Coast  women. 

As  soon  as  voluptuous  Summer  broke,  with  its  wealth 
of  greenery,  against  backgrounds  of  peaks  on  peaks,  their 
cedar  triremes  began  coming,  regular  war-shells  ninety 
feet  long  with  beaks  and  banks  of  rowers  like  Roman 
galleys.  High-prowed,  rising  well  out  of  the  water,  the 
slender,  graceful,  tapering  barks  buffeted  wind  and  wave, 
flamboyantly  glancing  their  painted  crests  of  family  arms. 
Surely  the  most  uninitiated  might  know  such  barks  be 
longed  to  savage  nobles,  cutting  the  foam  a  thousand 
miles  from  their  northern  habitat. 

At  first  they  sought  Mr.  Work  at  Victoria,  then,  hear 
ing  of  Nisqually,  crossed  the  Sound  to  Tolmie's  fort 
where  Letitia  and  Mrs.  Tolmie  felt  a  certain  joy  in  greet 
ing  these  friends  of  their  childhood.  Tamed  to  a  degree, 
they  were  exchanging  their  old  predatory  customs  for 
habits  of  industry. 


V 

PIOPIOMOXMOX 

to  Oregon,  are  you?  every  man,  woman, 
and  child  of  you  to  get  six  hundred  and  forty 
acres  of  land?  How  thin  you  will  be  scattered 
out,  and  how  easily  the  Indians  can  pick  you  off!  You 
had  better  all  settle  down  together  somewhere  and  be  able 
to  take  care  of  yourselves." 

Ten  years  before,  Hudson  Bay  traders  at  Fort  Hall  had 
said  this  to  arriving  immigrants;  Captain  Grant  said  it 
still ;  but  people  who  had  already  journeyed  two  thousand 
miles  to  reach  their  land  of  promise  were  not  to  be 


PIOPIOMOXMOX  321 

daunted  in  '53.  Over  the  future  site  of  Des  Moines  they 
had  rolled,  where  herds  of  elk  grazed  here  and  there. 
The  Missouri  they  had  crossed  at  Omaha  in  "  dug-outs  " 
and  on  a  ferry,  and  in  a  gale  of  wind  had  come  through 
the  South  Pass,  where  gravel,  sand,  and  pebbles  flew, 
stinging  as  they  struck.  All  the  way  from  Iowa  red  men 
had  stampeded  their  stock,  dogged  their  prairie  trail, 
shown  their  guns,  and  scowled  and  traded.  And  now  in 
the  Grand  Ronde  for  the  first  time  appeared  a  courier 
and  a  friendly  greeting: 

HO    FOR    PUGET    SOUND! 

COME    DIRECT   AND    AVOID    THE   LONG   DETOUR   TO    THE 

WILLAMETTE.  A  GOOD  ROAD  HAS  BEEN  COMPLETED  OVER 
THE  CASCADES  LEADING  IMMEDIATELY  TO  THE  SETTLE 
MENTS,  THUS  SAVING  A  LONG  AND  WEARISOME  JOURNEY 

THROUGH  THE  MOUNTAINS  OVER  THE  BARLOW  ROAD  TO 
PORTLAND,  AND  THE  ROUGH  TRAIL  UP  THE  COWLITZ. 

Every  man,  woman,  and  child  was  studying  the  crisp 
white  handbills  scattered  by  Nelson  Sargent,  who  had 
come  out  to  intercept  and  bring  in  his  father's  family 
over  the  new  mountain  highway. 

"  Yes,"  he  assured  them,  "  a  party  of  settlers  have 
started  out  to  make  a  road  through  Nachess  Pass  over 
the  Cascades,  and  you  will  be  the  first  to  travel  it." 

Puget  Sound !  Few  in  that  train  had  ever  heard  of 
Puget  Sound.  James  Biles  was  there,  at  the  head  of  a 
Kentucky  company  bound  for  the  Willamette;  Tyrus 
Himes,  at  the  head  of  a  company  that  away  back  near 
Monmouth,  Illinois,  had  resolved  to  found  a  Monmouth 
in  Oregon,  with  a  colony  and  >a  college;  and  James 
Longmire,  head  of  the  Indiana  people. 

"  What  is  this  about  Puget  Sound  ? "  The  name 
meant  not  more  than  Alaska  or  the  Philippines- to  a  later 
generation. 

"  Oh,  it  is  a  great  lumber  country,"  answered  Sargent ; 
"  wages  are  out  of  sight,  —  seventy-five,  eighty,  and  a 
hundred  dollars  a  month  for  common  hands.  Ships  are 

21 


322  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

riding  at  anchor  waiting  for.  cargoes.  And  then  the 
land  —  you  can  have  your  pick."  * 

With  a  license  to  open  and  operate  a  ferry  on  the 
Columbia,  Shirley  Ensign  of  Olympia  stepped  up, 
addressing  them  all  and  individually: 

"  Why,  gentlemen,  pack  and  saddle  horses  crossing 
the  headwaters  of  the  coast  rivers  are  frightened  by  the 
salmon  flopping  agin'  their  legs,  sir,  and  speckled  trout 
in  the  streams,  no  end.  And  codfish,  gentlemen !  —  in 
forty-eight  hours  a  vessel  of  six  hundred  tons  can  be 
loaded  with  codfish.  Up  on  the  old  Russian  whaling 
grounds  I  have  seen  'em  thick  enough  to  retard  the 
motion  of  ships.  And  right  along  the  beach,  sir,  at 
Olympia,  gentlemen,  I  've  seen  'em  haul  up  clams  that 
weighed  ten  pounds."  He  paused  for  breath. 

"  And  whales,  sir,  —  an  old  whaler  once  told  me  he 
expected  to  see  whaling  at  New  Bedford  but  a  tradition ; 
the  whole  business  would  be  transferred  to  Puget  Sound. 
Herring  come  in  shoals  up  the  straits  of  Fuca,  and 
sturgeon,  and  smelt  —  flopping  like  a  hail  storm  in  the 
waters." 

"  And  lumbering,"  Nelson  Sargent  broke  in  with  his 
first  argument.  "  When  the  forests  of  Maine  and  Michi 
gan  are  no  more,  the  world  will  get  its  timber  supply 
from  Puget  Sound." 

The  earnestness  of  the  speakers,  and  the  confirmation 
their  glowing  words  received  from  Dominick  Pambrun  at 
Walla  Walla,  fully  convinced  at  least  one  hundred  and 
forty  or  more  people  that  "  the  Sound  "  was  the  country, 
and  the  only  country  worth  mentioning  on  the  Pacific. 

"  Yes,  my  father  drove  horses  through  the  Nachess 
Pass  to  Fort  Nisqually  years  ago,"  said  Pambrun.  A 
few,  however,  held  to  their  original  scheme  and  went  on 
over  the  Barlow  road  to  found  a  Monmouth  and  a  college 
in  Oregon. 

Busy  now  was  the  contingent  at  old  Fort  Walla  Walla, 
—  the  future  Wallula,  —  digging  gnarled  oaks  and  cot 
ton  woods  from  river  drift  brought  down  from  Spokane 
forests,  —  hewing,  whipsawing,  and  building  a  ferry 
boat. 


PIOPIOMOXMOX  323 

Dominick  Pambrun,  the  son  of  old  Pierre  of  palmy 
Walla  Walla  days,  was  now  in  charge  at  the  Hudson 
Bay  fort,  kind  and  humane,  but  how  could  one  man  care 
for  the  wants  of  an  army  like  that  of  '53? 

Calloused  with  long  travel  and  worn-out,  trains  pulled 
out  leaving  men  and  women  sick  and  suffering  by  the 
wayside.  Foodless,  famishing,  fathers  came  to  counsel 
with  the  traders  at  the  fort.  With  practical  advice  Pam 
brun  helped  them  to  plan,  traded  in  their  broken  oxen 
for  saddle  horses,  persuaded  Indians  to  take  their  feather- 
beds  for  provisions,  and  here  and  there  averted  war  when 
misunderstandings  arose.  Wheat  at  five  dollars  a  bushel, 
then  fifty  cents  a  quart,  was  sold  to  starving  immigrants 
by  itinerant  peddlers,  taking  advantage  of  their  necessi 
ties.  Poor  immigrants!  sharks  and  gamblers  waited  on 
every  camping-ground  to  rob  them  of  their  little  all. 
Indians  annoyed  them,  hiding  their  stock,  and  then 
demanding  pay  to  find  it. 

Shirley  Ensign  and  Dominick  had  planned  to  build 
and  operate  a  ferry  line,  but  lo!  before  a  stick  had  been 
cut  the  immigrants  were  there,  plump  up  against  the 
crossing.  The  restless  Americans  themselves  took  hold, 
rushing  the  work  on  the  first  ferry  over  the  Columbia. 

Three  chiefs  had  gathered  from  the  Indian  world,  - 
Piopiomoxmox  of  the  Walla  Wallas,  Old  Joseph  of  the 
Nez  Perces,  and  Kamiakin,  —  come  out  to  witness  this 
worst  confirmation  of  their  fears. 

With  the  dignity  of  a  Dutch  farmer,  riding  a  large 
American  horse,  a  beautiful  bay,  with  holsters  in  his  sad 
dle  and  a  pair  of  navy  revolvers  at  his  side,  the  square, 
portly  Piopiomoxmox  was  a  striking  figure,  the  richest 
and  most  notable  Indian  on  the  Oregon  side  of  the 
Columbia.  A  thousand  head  of 'horses  and  cattle  had 
Piopiomoxmox,  and  a  thousand  dollars  in  gold.  He 
had  taken  Jason  Lee's  advice  and  become  a  capitalist. 

"  Hyu  chickamin!  hyu  horses!  "  ("  Lots  of  property! 
lots  of  horses!")  Piopiomoxmox  gestured  to  Chief 
Joseph  as  they  watched  the  train.  Dominick  Pambrun 
came  forward. 

"I  say,  Yellow  Bird,  can't  you  and  your  people  help 


324  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

these  immigrants  over  with  their  stock?"  In  his  ear 
liest  boyhood  Dominick  had  played  at  the  feet  of  the 
proud  old  chief,  and  addressed  him  by  his  most  familiar 
title.  For  the  sake  of  his  father,  Yellow  Bird  had  wel 
comed  the  young  master  back  to  Walla  Walla,  and  now 
—  "  Mebbe  so,"  grunted  the  chief  of  the  Walla  Wallas. 
"Mebbe  so.  What  pay?" 

Through  Pambrun  as  a  mediator  terms  were  agreed 
upon;  his  people  would  assist  in  ferrying  the  emigrants 
and  swimming  their  stock.  Sharp  at  a  bargain  was 
Piopio,  and  a  tyrant  to  his  Indians.  Back  and  forth  he 
rode,  proud  for  the  moment  to  be  counted  a  friend  and 
assistant  of  the  white  men. 

Across,  across  the  line  wended,  to  a  new  unbroken 
shore  of  the  virgin  world,  —  to  encounter  Kamiakin 
with  a  strange  look  on  his  sharp-featured,  Mongolian 
face. 

"  Going  away  up  over  the  mountains,"  explained 
friendly  old  Joseph.  "  Not  tarry  in  your  country." 

Kamiakin  withdrew  while  the  people  camped,  waiting 
for  their  stock.  But  the  worn-out  cattle  could  hardly 
buffet  the  strong  current  of  the  deep,  swift  river,  and 
drifting  down  stream,  came  back  on  the  same  side  they 
had  entered.  With  a  row  of  twenty-five  canoes  below 
the  lines  of  horned  heads,  again  and  again  the  Indians 
tried,  until,  discouraged,  they  would  work  no  more. 

"  No  cross !  "  The  Indians  flung  themselves  exhausted 
on  the  sand.  Two  days  had  passed  in  the  vain  endeavor. 

"  What  can  be  the  matter  ?  "  James  Longmire  came 
up  to  Pambrun  in  utter  despair.  '  The  beasts  turn 
back  to  this  shore  every  time."  Whole  herds  had  been 
drowned  at  Salmon  Falls;  must  they  have  a  similar 
trouble  here? 

Dominick  had  been  watching,  and  studying,  too.  "  I 
think,  sir,  the  glare  of  the  afternoon  sun  in  the  river 
prevents  the  cattle  from  seeing  the  opposite  shore,  so, 
naturally,  they  turn  back  to  the  shore  they  can  see.  And 
more  than  that,"  added  Dominick,  "  the  cattle  should  get 
over  in  the  morning,  in  time  to  dry  off  before  night. 
The  night  air  chills  and  is  a  great  injury  to  them." 


PIOPIOMOXMOX  325 

"  Humph!  any  fool  ought  to  know  that,"  grunted  Mr. 
Longmire,  walking  away.  m 

"  Get  your  cattle  together  before  nine  o  clock  in  the 
morning,  and  I  guarantee  they  will  swim  across,"  shouted 
Pambrun  after  him.  But  the  discouraged  Indians  refused 
to  budge  an  inch. 

With  a  stern  look,  old  Chief  Piopiomoxmox  strode 
forth  with  revolvers  and  whip.  "  Go!  "  he  commanded. 
The  Indians  leaped.  Chasing,  lashing  first  one  and  then 
another,  Piopiomoxmox  followed,  and  behold,  the  cattle 
were  taken  over  without  the  loss  of  a  hoof. 

Pleased  with  his  own  prowess,  Piopiomoxmox  himself 
crossed,  pointed  the  trail  up  the  Yakima,  and  went  ahead, 
ordering  a  beef  to  be  dressed  for  the  immigrants. 

On  up  the  stream  where  flourishing  cities  were  yet 
to  rise,  with  drooping  heads  and  slow  and  wearied  tread, 
came  the  teams  into  Kamiakin's  valley.  A  few  squaws 
dug  camas  here  and  there;  most  of  the  tribe  were  away 
to  the  summer  hunt. 

Alone,  driving  his  cattle  in  advance,  Clark  Greeaman, 
a  young  herder,  caught  sight  of  the  stately  figure  of  the 
chief  he  had  noted  at  the  crossing.  Without  hesitation 
he  advanced  and  shook  hands  with  Kaniiakin. 

"  Food,"  gestured  the  young  man.  '  The  night  is 
cold,  I  am  far  from  my  people." 

'  In  a  long  tunic  of  fine  green  cloth,  mounted  on  a  white 
horse,  Kamiakin  looked  more  imperious  than  ever  —  and 
Asiatic.  Without  a  word  the  dignified  head  of  the  four 
teen  allied  tribes  of  the  Yakima  handed  out  a  chunk  of 
dried  buffalo  beef,  and  loaned  the  stranger  a  robe  to 
keep  him  warm  for  the  icy  night.  With  "  Clatawah, 
and  a  gesture  waving  him  on  in  the  morning,  Kamiakin 
turned  off  on  another  trail. 

But  that  grave,  reflective  look  haunted  Greenman. 
the  old  chief  watching  us  ?  " 


326  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 


VI 

" WHERE  LEAPS  AND  THUNDERS  THE  SPOKANE" 

AL  Summer  Kamiakin  had  been  watching,  not  so 
much  the  immigrants  as  the  surveyors  of  the 
Northern  Pacific  railroad,  of  whose  swift  coming 
some  little  bird  had  borne  him  a  message  from  the  Black- 
foot  country.  "  Watch  the  pass/'  he  warned  the  Snoqual- 
mies,  "  the  road  makers  are  coming " ;  and  then  at 
Spokane,  counselling  with  Chief  Garry,  "  The  road 
makers  will  soon  be  in  your  country." 

Spokane  Garry  knew  what  that  meant ;  he  was  an  edu 
cated  Indian,  maintained  by  the  Hudson  Bay  Company 
for  six  years  in  the  schools  at  Red  River,  only  to  come 
back  to  the  Spokane  chieftainship  and  out-Herod  Herod 
in  his  Indian  deviltry.  "  Garry  teaches  our  people  drunk 
enness,"  complained  an  old  chief  to  the  missionaries, 
Walker  and  Eells  of  the  Spokane  country.  Long  finger 
nails  had  Big  Star,  like  the  claws  of  a  bird,  or  a  Chinese 
mandarin ;  but  for  years  after  Walker  and  Eells  left  the 
country  he  continued  to  summon  his  people  to  prayer  on 
the  banks  of  the  River  Spokane.  But  the  young  Indians, 
the  wild  ones,  followed  Garry. 

While  determined  hands  were  crashing  down  giant  firs 
in  the  Nachess  Pass,  far  eastward  on  the  summit  of  the 
Rockies,  Isaac  Ingalls  Stevens  was  issuing  the  proclama 
tion  of  his  governorship  of  the  newly  created  Territory 
of  Washington ;  and  across  the  Pacific,  Commodore  Perry 
was  steaming  into  Yedo. 

Herculean  had  been  the  tasks  since  the  two  consulted 
in  the  old  brick  club-house  at  the  national  capital,  one  to 
organize  an  expedition  to  Japan,  the  other  to  conduct  the 
preliminary  survey  for  a  Northern  Pacific  railroad.  For 
not  only  was  Isaac  Ingalls  Stevens  Governor  of  a  Ter 
ritory  larger  than  old  Gaul  in  the  days  of  Caesar,  and 


THE    SPOKANE  327 

inhabited  by  as  many  fighting  tribes,  but  likewise  he  had 
been  intrusted  with  the  original  outline  of  a  road  greater 
than  any  the  old  Roman  world  ever  knew. 

"  Yes,  your  surveyors  have  arrived  at  Fort  Colville," 
Spokane  Garry  assured  Governor  Stevens  three  weeks 
later  on  the  green  at  old  Spokane  House.  Long  since 
the  chief  had  appropriated  the  abandoned  quarters  of  the 
old  Astor  fur-traders.  "  A  decent  lodge,"  the  Governor 
found  Garry  had,  "  with  flour  on  hand,  sugar  and  coffee, 
to  make  his  friends  comfortable."  A  vast  bonfire  lit  up 
the  Governor's  camp  close  by,  not  unlike  the  fires  of 
Caesar  on  the  banks  of  the  Saone  when  he  met  the  Hel- 
vetii.  Singularly  free  from  the  accessories  of  power, 
no  flags  or  banners  waved,  no  cannon  thundered,  but 
under  the  diapason  of  falling  waters,  a  plain,  businesslike 
American  quizzed  Chief  Garry. 

This  was  not  at  all  Chief  Garry's  notion  of  a  great 
Governor.  When  Sir  George  Simpson  passed  that  way, 
or  Douglas,  or  Ogden,  pipers  played,  guns  saluted,  and 
pennons  and  bannerols  of  the  "  H.  B.  C."  flickered  in  the 
wind.  A  very  mean  opinion  Chief  Garry  conceived  of 
a  government  whose  high  officials  travelled  without  pomp 
or  pageantry.  "  I  do  not  understand  Chief  Garry ;  he  is 
not  frank,"  said  Governor  Stevens,  pulling  rein  with  his 
suite  next  night  at  ten  o'clock  at  old  Fort  Colville. 

Angus  McDonald  ruled  there  now,"  Chief  Trader  of 
the  North  Columbia.  Had  he  known  in  time,  salutes 
would  have  greeted  this  first  American  Governor  that 
ever  came  to  Fort  Colville.  As  it  was,  McDonald  made 
up  with  a  keg  of  his  best  cognac  out  of  the  cellar  and 
steaks  done  to  a  turn  in  the  fort  kitchen.  Then,  seated 
in  the  self-same  armchair  before  the  fire  where  Archibald 
McDonald  had  been  wont  to  tell  tales  of  his  Highland 
clan  to  Ranald  and  his  small  brothers,  Governor  Stevens 
listened  to  uproarious  anecdotes  from  his  brown-bearded 
host,  whose  Gaelic  locks  shook  with  laughter  all  over  his 
massive  shoulders. 

"  I  have  heard  strange  stories  of  your  coming,  Gov 
ernor,"  chanted  Angus  McDonald  in  that  deep,  sonorous 
voice  that  always  captured  an  auditor.  "  The  Blackfeet 


328  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

said  your  horses  had  claws  like  the  grizzly  bear ;  that  they 
climbed  steep  rocks  and  held  on  by  their  claws;  their 
necks  were  like  the  new  moon,  and  their  neighing  had  the 
sound  of  distant  thunder." 

To  unsophisticated  Blackfeet,  ignorant  of  the  pomp  of 
Hudson  Bay,  these  American  engineers,  trying  every 
pass  of  their  valleys,  heedless  of  trails,  exploring  and 
jotting  down  measurements  and  calculations,  were  em 
bodiment  enough  of  power  to  kindle  the  wildest  myths 
of  their  untutored  fancy.  No  wonder  Kamiakin  was 
excited,  when  such  rumors  came  from  the  Blackfeet. 

A  beautiful  child  lingered  near,  —  Christine,  the  Chief 
Trader's  daughter.  A  whole  herd  of  horses  Christine 
had  at  her  command ;  she  could  ride  like  the  wind  and 
chase  down  the  buffalo  trail.  But  Christine  must  keep 
house  for  her  father. 

"  My  mother  cannot  be  kept  much  indoors,"  said 
Christine  simply.  "  I,  too,  like  to  be  free." 

"Where  best  do  you  like  to  be?"  the  Governor 
inquired  of  the  dark-eyed  little  beauty. 

"  With  the  Blackfeet  Indians,  because  they  have  the 
prettiest  dances  and  do  the  best  bead-work  on  soft  skins 
of  elk,  deer,  and  antelope,  making  dresses  for  chiefs  and 
warriors." 

"  But  my  explorers,  Mr.  McDonald?  "  The  Governor 
awoke  from  his  moment  of  relaxation. 

"  Camped  close  by ;  I  have  sent  them  word."  Even 
as  he  spoke,  Captain  George  B.  McClellan,  of  the  United 
States  army,  entered  to  greet  his  chief. 

From  opposite  ends  of  the  great  survey  they  had 
started,  McClellan  from  the  Pacific,  and  Stevens  from  the 
Lakes,  travelling  toward  each  other,  outlining  the  route 
of  future  inter-oceanic  traffic.  Until  one  o'clock  Stevens, 
McClellan,  McDonald,  talked  by  the  big  old  fire  of  Col- 
ville  on  the  i8th  of  October,  1853,  while  two  hundred 
miles  westward  in  those  same  Cascade  mountains  heroic 
women,  with  their  husbands  and  children,  were  hazarding 
the  clefts  and  canyons  of  the  Nachess  Pass. 

'  There  is  no  gap  north  of  the  Columbia  worth  con 
sidering,"  said  Captain  McClellan,  "  unless  it  be  the 


FROM    THE    LAKES    TO    THE    SEA      329 

Snoqualmie.  I  took  a  hasty  look  at  that,  but  in  my 
opinion  the  snow  in  winter  is  from  twenty  to  twenty-five 
feet  in  that  place." 

It  was  McClellan  that  Kamiakin  was  watching ;  it  was 
McClellan  that  he  had  followed  to  Snoqualmie,  deter 
ring  him  by  every  exaggeration  of  the  difficulties  and 
snow-depths. 

"  Can  you  not  go  up  the  Yakima  and  carry  the  survey 
clear  across  the  Cascades  to  Puget  Sound?"  urged  the 
Governor. 

But  a  light  snow  fell.  "  Impracticable  so  late  in  the 
fall,"  said  "McClellan.  At  that  very  time  the  last  con 
tingent  of  autumnal  immigrants  were  driving  their 
wagons  and  stock  up  into  the  Nachess  Pass. 


VII 

FROM   THE   LAKES   TO   THE   SEA 

"  F~T~1  HE  Governor!  the  Governor!  the  Governor  has 
come !  "  Again  and  again  the  solitary  cannon 

JL  at  Olympia  boomed  the  glad  message.  Black- 
blanketed  little  klootchmen,  diminutive  as  most  Indian 
women,  scurrying  to  and  fro,  bent  double  with  bundles 
on  their  backs,  stopped  to  listen.  With  their  stiff  little 
legs  sewed  up  in  blue  cloth  as  tight  as  could  be  bound, 
all  winter  they  went  around,  calling  in  shrill,  searching 
trebles,  "  La-goom!  la-go om!  "  selling  pitchwood  to  the 
whites.  With  spring  they  would  blossom  into  new 
clothes,  red  blankets,  and  cheeks  crimsoned  as  if  stained 
with  berry  juice.  But  that  cannon-  The  klootchmen 
hushed. 

Suddenly  and  unexpectedly  the  Governor  had  come, 
wet,  dripping,  soaked  to  his  buckskin  undershirt,  which 
gripped  tighter  and  tighter  about  him  as  it  dried. 
But  a  flag  waved  in  the  rain;  at  last  Olympia  was  the 


330  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

northern  capital,  and  right  joyously  she  greeted  her 
Governor. 

"  After  six  months  in  the  plains  and  mountains,  I  feel 
that  I  have  now  reached  home,"  said  Governor  Stevens. 
"It  is  my  pleasant  duty  to  report  the  complete  success 
of  my  exploration  " ;  and  again  the  hollow-noted  cannon 
answered. 

The  very  sight  of  Puget  Sound  gave  Governor  Stevens 
a  thrill ;  and  Mount  Rainier  —  "  Fifty  miles  away  and 
pretty  nearly  three  miles  high,  sir,"  Colonel  Simmons 
assured  him. 

"  Indeed !    Almost  as  high  as  Mont  Blanc." 

How  many  elk  and  deer  were  slaughtered  for  the  bar 
becue,  how  many  clams  went  into  the  dressing,  none  now 
may  say,  but  the  aroma  lingers  still  in  living  memories. 
For  the  Governor  had  come,  the  first,  and  their  own. 

"  Ours  is  the  great  roadstead  on  the  route  of  Asiatic 
commerce,"  said  the  Governor.  The  roof  rose  and  fell 
with  cheering.  "  A  great  field  opens  to  our  view,  and 
we  can  labor  with  the  conviction  that  from  our  hands 
an  imperial  domain  will  descend  to  our  children,  all,  too, 
in  the  cause  of  freedom  and  humanity." 

As  to  getting  a  road  through  the  mountains,  could  not 
the  recent  arrivals  answer  for  that?  Natural  engineers 
as  they  were,  had  not  their  wagons  in  six  weeks  tri 
umphantly  crossed  the  Cascade  range  by  a  road  built 
mainly  by  themselves  as  they  marched?  Knew  they  not 
the  mountains  —  knew  they  not  ?  Where  they  had  passed 
a  railroad  could  pass.  As  the  Governor  talked  they  lived 
it  all  again. 

"  The  mountains  can  be  crossed !  "  they  cried. 

Relations  with  China  and  Japan  were  touched  upon. 
Not  in  vain  had  the  New  York  "  Tribune  "  been  pasted 
on  cabin  walls;  even  the  children  knew  of  Perry,  and 
the  earliest  issues  of  the  local  "  Columbian  "  had  con 
tained  detailed  accounts  of  his  preparations.  And  the 
ever  present  Indian  must  be  considered. 

"  The  great  end  to  be  looked  to  is  their  gradual  civili 
zation  and  their  ultimate  incorporation  with  the  people 
of  the  Territory,"  said  the  Governor.  "  The  success  of 


FROM    THE   LAKES    TO    THE    SEA      331 

the  missions,  and  the  high  civilization,  not  to  say  refine 
ment,  of  the  Blackfeet.  women  who  have  been  married  to 
whites,  show  how  much  may  be  hoped  for." 

For  had  he  not  stopped  at  old  Fort  Union,  where  once 
Kenneth  Mackenzie  reigned,  the  King  of  the  Upper  Mis 
souri?  Mackenzie  had  had  his  day  and  gone  his  way, 
and  Alexander  Culbertson  ruled  in  his  stead,  with  a 
Blackfoot  wife,  whose  singular  facility  in  adopting  the 
usages  of  the  whites  had  given  the  Governor  a  new  con 
ception  of  Indian  possibilities.  A  few  weeks  later  one 
of  the  Nachess  Pass  pioneers  met  a  blue-shirted  stranger 
paddling  down  to  Seattle.  A  slouched  hat  covered  a 
shock  of  long  black  hair,  and  his  overalls  were  tucked  into 
high  cavalry  boots. 

"  Looking  for  a  claim  ?  "  ventured  the  pioneer. 

"  No,  not  much  of  a  farmer,"  replied  the  stranger, 
directing  his  Indian  crew. 

'  Think  of  going  into  business  on  the  Sound?  " 

"  Well,  I  have  my  hands  pretty  full  already  and  expect 
to  have  more  irons  in  the  fire  soon.  The  country  needs 
workers." 

"  I  'd  caution  ye  not  to  trust  Indian  guides  too  much. 
They  'd  kill  a  stranger  for  the  sake  of  his  boots." 

At  this,  discussing  treaties,  reservations,  and  the  best 
policy  to  pursue  in  dealing  with  Indians,  the  two  glided 
amicably  on  to  Seattle  and  separated. 

"  Governor  Stevens  is  in  town  and  will  lecture  to 
night,"  buzzed  bulletins  on  every  hand.  All  Seattle  went, 
the  pioneer  went,  and  beheld  —  in  his  companion  of  the 
afternoon  —  the  Governor  himself. 

Low  in  stature,  slight  in  physique,  with  long  black 
hair  and  enormous  boots,  little  was  visible  but  boots  and 
hair  as  Isaac  Ingalls  Stevens,  a  sort  of  Napoleon,  quick, 
nervous,  positive,  and  commanding,  turned  his  hazel- 
brown  eyes  to  that  audience  in  Yesler's  cook-house.  His 
face,  tanned  to  the  shade  of  an  Indian,  lighted  with 
peculiar  enthusiasm. 

Having  issued  his  proclamation,  called  an  election, 
summoned  a  legislature,  and  set  his  railroad  surveyors 
to  writing  up  their  reports  in  his  office  at  Olympia,  in  an 


332  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

open  boat  in  the  rainy,  stormy  season,  the  Governor  had 
taken  a  quick  dash  down  tlie  swift  tides  and  fierce  gales 
of  the  lower  Sound  to  look  at  its  harbors,  estimate  its 
Indian  population,  and  visit  Victoria.  From  a  squint  at 
Snoqualmie,  the  pass  on  which  he  had  fixed  his  calcula 
tions  for  the  Northern  Pacific  Railroad,  he  had  come  that 
day  to  Seattle. 

"  The  road  to  the  Orient  lies  through  Puget  Sound." 
In  one  sentence  Governor  Stevens  had  Seattle,  as  he  had 
Olympia,  in  his  vest  pocket  next  his  heart.  Lumbermen 
toasting  their  shins  before  the  six-foot  fireplace  arose  to 
their  feet  with  a  roar.  Stately  ships  and  ocean  steamers 
had  not  yet  found  that  harbor,  land-locked  and  safe  from 
storms.  What  mattered?  The  Governor  saw  a  sea  in 
which  the  combined  navies  of  the  world  might  ride  at 
anchor.  Over  yonder  Cascades,  walling  out  the  world, 
he  saw  more  immigrants  coming,  and  up  the  mighty 
waterway,  white  fleets  of  commerce.  Seattle  believed  in 
herself  before;  she  knew  herself  now. 

Already  there  was  a  disturbance  with  the  Indians. 

"  Only  some  little  trouble  with  Seattle,"  explained 
Dr.  Maynard.  "  He  wants  to  tax  the  city." 

'  Tax  the  city?  what  for?  "  the  pioneers  were  begging 
to  know. 

'You  use  my  name;  it  will  call  me  back  when  I 
am  dead,"  muttered  the  old  chief.  "  I  want  pay,  pay 
now  for  what  I  shall  suffer  then.  I  shall  rest  uneasy  in 
my  grave." 

Then  was  revealed  the  struggle  of  Seattle's  soul.  For 
was  it  not  inviolable  that  no  name  of  a  chief  should  be 
spoken  after  his  death? 

"  It  will  bring  harm  to  my  spirit  in  the  future  life," 
insisted  Seattle.  He,  with  all  his  people,  had  covered  the 
bay  with  their  canoes,  coming  in  to  greet  the  Governor,  — 
and  collect  this  tax. 

"  No,"  conciliatingly  Governor  Stevens  took  Seattle's 
hand,  "  to  have  a  city  named  for  you  is  a  great  compli 
ment.  You  will  be  remembered  long  after  the  rest  of  us 
are  forgotten." 

A  light  electrified  the  bronzed  old  face.     "  If  the  great 


FROM    THE    LAKES    TO    THE    SEA      333 

Chief  from  Washington  says  this,  it  must  be  true,"  he 
whispered,  turning  on  his  moccasined  toe. 

"  Dr.  Tolmie,  you  must  assist  me  in  shaping  my  Ter 
ritorial  policy."  Politely  the  Governor  dropped  in  at 
Nisqually  on  his  way  home. 

It  was  ever  the  fashion  for  the  Hudson  Bay  magnates 
to  ridicule  "  Boston  men,"  but  now  and  then  some  sea- 
captain,  or  some  officer  like  Governor  Stevens,  completely 
undid  this  prejudice.  "  Well,  well,"  the  Englishmen 
admitted,  "  you  may  be  from  Boston,  but  your  dad  was 
clearly  from  England."  The  natural  feeling  of  friendship 
for  an  English-speaking  American  always  proved  the 
unity  of  the  race.  The  same  books  were  theirs,  the  same 
tongue,  the  same  general  laws,  customs,  and  religion. 

"Our  Indian  policy?"  ejaculated  Dr.  Tolmie.  "We 
broke  up  their  bands  and  tribes  by  employing  the  Indian. 
We  fitted  out  hunting  parties, 'and  kept  them  constantly 
on  excursions,  preventing  concentration.  Our  surest 
reliance  for  profit  was  in  putting  the  Indian  to  work  on 
his  own  hunting  ground.  He  was  the  Company's  servant. 
But  now  the  settler  has  come  he  wants  the  land.  That 
ends  the  Indian  hunt,  kills  the  game,  cuts  off  the  red  man's 
occupation,  and  makes  him  dangerous  to  both  of  us." 

Both  Dr.  Tolmie  and  Governor  Stevens  realized  the 
situation.  As  flint  and  steel  were  the  American  and 
British  elements,  and  between  them  lay,  like  tinder,  the 
Indian.  Would  they  collide  ?  Would  flint  and  steel  strike 
fire?  Walled  in,  hemmed,  and  palisaded  on  every  side 
by  mountains,  covered  with  forests  second  only  to  the 
gigantic  sequoias  of  California,  mixed  and  mingled  with 
a  savage  race  that,  lightning-eyed,  watched  the  slightest 
break  between  "  King  George  man  "  and  "  Boston,"  an 
unsung  Italy  slept  beneath  Vesuvius. 

By  a  joint  legislative  resolution  that  no  disadvantage 
would  result  to  the  Territory  by  his  absence,  Governor 
Stevens  was  enabled  to  set  out  in  March  for  the  national 
capital.  On  the  way  he  fell  in  with  the  messenger  from 
Commodore  Perry,  bringing  over  his  treaty  from  Japan 
to  be  ratified  by  the  President  and  Congress. 


334  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 


VIII 

THE   BOONE-CURRY   HOMESTEAD 

THE  Boone  boys  came  home  from  California  with 
silver  spurs,  silver-mounted  saddles,  and  silver 
bells,  that  jingled  as  they  rode.  Little  Phonse 
had  blossomed  into  a  cavalier  of  the  Spanish  style  since 
the  days  when,  as  printer's  devil  at  the  "  Spectator " 
office,  he  interpreted  the  woes  of  complaining  Indians 
to  General  Joe  Lane,  at  Oregon  City.  Now,  with  his 
brother  Jesse,  he  was  running  the  Boone  ferry  opposite 
the  old  homestead  where  had  risen  the  Governor's 
mansion. 

For  George  Law  Curry  was  Governor,  and  Chloe,  the 
first  lady  of  Oregon.  Ambitious  and  restless,  General 
Joe  Lane  had  tarried  but  a  brief  time  in  the  Governor's 
chair,  when,  as  a  delegate  to  Congress,  he  shifted  his 
mantle  to  Curry.  Almost  the  first  act  of  President  Pierce 
was  the  appointment  of  Curry  and  Stevens  as  Governors 
of  the  two  northwest  Territories.  At  just  the  age  of 
Lewis  and  Clark  when  they  made  their  great  exploration, 
these  two  young  executives  were  to  shape  the  destinies 
of  States.  With  the -days  of  gold  and  the  elevation  to 
the  governorship,  Colonel  Boone's  old  log  cabin  no  longer 
sufficed  for  the  chief  of  a  rising  commonwealth.  In  its 
place  had  arisen  the  Boone-Curry  mansion,  shining  upon 
a  bluff  overlooking  the  Willamette.  Behind,  tier  on  tier, 
rose  the  timber,  and  Mount  Hood,  chief  guardian  of  the 
Governor's  castle. 

And  castle  it  was  in  spaciousness  and  cheer,  with  a 
brick  hearth  and  fireplace  in  every  room,  and  a  hall  from 
end  to  end,  wide  enough  to  drive  a  team  of  horses 
through.  No  private  house  like  it  existed  in  Oregon  or 
Washington.  And  a  white  paling  fence!  That  was  a 
Boston  innovation  seldom  seen  on  the  wild,  unpolished 


THE    BOONE-CURRY    HOMESTEAD      335 

Pacific,  —  a  distinction  so  rare  that  it  had  come  to  be 
deemed  peculiar  to  missionaries  and  "  aristocrats." 
"  Hyas  Tyee"  ("Chief  House"),  said  the  Indians. 

"  Let  us  call  the  place  Hazelglade,  Chloe,"  said  the 
Governor;  for  above  and  below,  mile  on  mile,  thickets 
of  hazel  grown  to  be  forests,  with  trees  large  enough 
for  fence-posts  and  nuts  like  filberts,  shaded  the  umbra 
geous  Willamette.  Only  here  and  there  a  deer  trail  or 
the  hard-won  path  of  a  farmer  broke  through  the  iron- 
boughed  hedges  of  hazel.  Far  off  on  the  river  Indians 
in  their  high-prowed  canoes  pointed  up  to  the  white  pal 
isades  of  the  Governor's  fortalice,  and  came  so  often 
when  the  Governor  was  away  that  a  yellow  Indian  dog, 
half  coyote,  was  kept  to  guard  the  family. 

'  The  Boones  always  did  have  plenty  of  dogs  around 
their  places,"  laughed  Chloe. 

Down  in  the  orchard  the  children  played  in  the  old 
Boone  cabin,  and  helped  Frenchmen  passing  on  the  river 
to  apples  from  the  Governor's  orchard;  for,  somehow, 
as  in  Jefferson's  day,  "  the  Governor  "  was  supposed  to 
be  able  to  accommodate  the  world.  Down  at  the  land 
ing,  at  the  foot  of  his  hill,  Indians  and  Frenchmen  roasted 
the  Governor's  potatoes,  under  the  guns,  as  it  were,  of 
Hazelglade. 

Everybody  from  the  very  head  settlements  travelled 
by  barge  or  canoe  on  the  river,  going  down  to  Oregon 
City  or  Portland  to  trade,  tying  up  to  a  willow  for  the 
night,  and  making  Boone's  Ferry,  or  Hazelglade,  a  point 
on  the  journey.  And  the  Indians,  in  long  lines  of  canoes 
on  their  way  to  the  Falls  to  fish,  going  and  coming, 
struck  camp  at  Curry's.  A  little  smoke  would  be  seen 
curling  up  under  the  hill.  "  I  reckon  the  Indians  are 
below,"  and  out  Chloe  would  slip  ,to  talk  with  her  red 
retainers.  What  this  little  attention  from  the  Governor's 
wife  meant  for  good  order,  the  Governor  himself  never 
dreamed.  He  never  could  talk  jargon,  but  shaking  his 
fingers  with  a  laugh,  let  her  do  as  she  wished.  Governor 
Curry  never  loved  Indians. 

The  family  wash-house  was  down  there  under  the  hill 
by  a  spring  of  crystal  gurgling  out  of  the  river  bank, 


336  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

welled  up  and  curbed,  with  a  dipper  for  the  traveller. 
And  here  old  squaw  Molly  washed  the  Governor's  linen. 
No  wonder  Chloe  had  to  keep  watch  when  the  canoes 
were  coming,  —  not  even  the  sleepless  dog  could  keep 
drying  clothes  from  the  pilfering  Indians. 

There  was  always  a  great  noise  when  the  Indians  went 
down,  whooping,  and  sending  echoes  from  shore  to  shore. 
Even  Chloe  herself  sometimes  laughingly  called,  "  O  In 
dian  ! "  and  echo  answered,  "  Old  Indian-n-n !  Old 
Indian-n-n !  O  I-ir-d-n-n !  "  dying  away  into  the  far 
thest  Willamette  hills.  But  on  their  coming  back  with 
canoes  laden,  heaped,  and  piled  with  salmon,  scarcely  a 
ripple  disturbed  the  water,  not  a  voice  called,  as  labori 
ously  they  paddled  up,  hugging  the  shore,  and  only  a 
little  curl  of  blue  at  sunset  told  that  a  fire  had  been 
kindled  under  the  hill  to  boil  their  salmon.  And  up  again 
before  daylight,  they  were  gone. 

Ever  busy  was  Chloe  at  her  garden  of  roses,  her  sweet- 
williams  and  pinks  and  honeysuckles  on  the  porch,  or  in 
the  kitchen,  where  green  coffee  came  by  the  sackful, 
sugar  by  the  barrel,  and  muslin  and  calico  by  the  bolt, 
to  be  stitched  by  her  own  patient  fingers.  And  tobacco, 
too,  was  there,  where  the  Boone  boys  had  raised  the 
first  in  Oregon.  Sometimes  the  children,  scattering  the 
dust  in  the  bin  back  under  the  hallway  stairs,  thought 
of  Daniel  Boone  and  his  tobacco. 

'  Tell  us  again,  Mother,  tell  us  again !  "  Hurrying, 
they  hung  about  her  chair,  and  Chloe,  letting  fall  her 
work,  would  begin. 

"  Once  upon  a  time,  children,  Daniel  Boone,  examin 
ing  his  tobacco  strung  up  in  an  outhouse  to  dry,  saw 
four  stout  Indians  slip  in  below.  *  Now,  Dan'l,'  they 
cried,  '  we  got  you,  you  no  get  away  any  more,  we  take 
you  this  time.'  Looking  down  upon  their  upturned  faces, 
he  saw  loaded  guns,  and  recognized  the  Shawnees  from 
whom  he  had  lately  escaped. 

"  '  Ah,  old  friends,  glad  to  see  you,  and  how  are  all 
my  brothers  and  sisters  ?  ' 

"  '  Come  down,  Dan'l/  beckoned  the  chief. 

"'Yes,  yes,  I'm  coming;    just  wait  and  see  how  I 


THE    BOONE-CURRY   HOMESTEAD      337 

move  my  tobacco.  I  '11  give  you  some  pretty  soon/  And 
inquiring  after  one  old  Indian  friend  and  another,  col 
lecting  a  bunch  of  dry  stalks  in  his  arms,  he  made  a  leap, 
filling  their  eyes  and  mouths  with  the  pungent  dust, 
blinding  and  choking  them,  while  away  he  rushed  to  his 
cabin  and  his  gun." 

As  the  children  listened  to  the  story,  Daniel  Boone 
seemed  to  live  on  the  banks  of  the  blue  Willamette. 

An  avenue  had  been  opened  through  the  hazel- 
brush,  the  old  Boone  Ferry  road  into  the  uplands  of 
stately  fir  and  cedar,  where  carriages  came  of  judges, 
and  ladies  on  horseback  in  handsome  riding-habits, 
sweeping  up  to  Hazelglade.  Everybody  knew  that  the 
cellar  was  stored  with  the  finest  apples,  worth  their 
weight  in  gold  in  San  Francisco,  and  kegs  of  home 
made  currant  wine.  No  farmer  in  the  country  had  such 
implements  for  farming,  and  all  came  to  borrow  of  the 
Governor. 

The  wide  veranda  around  the  house  was  often  filled 
with  visitors,  the  parlor  and  the  library,  where  the  Gov 
ernor  had  more  books  than  were  known  in  all  Oregon 
besides,  in  tall  bookcases  with  glass  doors,  built  into 
the  wall,  where  the  Governor  himself,  and  Chloe,  often 
dusted  the  precious  volumes  that  came  in  ships  around 
Cape  Horn,  or  by  Panama.  No  one  knew  better  than 
Chloe  how  to  serve  dinners  for  judges  and  legislators. 
Had  she  not  seen  Aunt  Panthea  in  the  old  statehouse  at 
Jefferson  City?  Senator  Benton  came  there,  and  Linn,. 
-  the  greatest  Western  men  of  their  time ;  but  even 
then  the  tables  could  not  surpass  Chloe's  here  on  the 
Willamette.  Hunters  came  with  their  hounds  to  Hazel- 
glade,  stalking  deer  at  midnight  with  the  Boones  in  the 
Willamette  woods,  using  the  same  old  tricks  handed 
down  from  father  to  son  since  the  days  of  the  great 
Daniel. 

Almost  any  night  might  be  seen  their  pitchwood 
torches  luring  black-tailed  deer  down  to  the  river;  a 
pack  of  hounds  closed  in  behind.  The  barking  could  be 
heard  for  miles,  as  the  huntsmen  in  boats  shot  the  trapped 
creatures  in  the  water.  But  the  Governor  kept  no  hounds ; 

22 


338  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

he  almost  hesitated  about  eating  the  game,  such  was  his 
hatred  of  slaughter.  The  valley  was  overrun  with  wild 
things;  long,  spotted,  yellow  cougars  slid  through  the 
jungles  with  their  bellies  almost  on  the  ground,  feline 
and  stealthy.  Out  from  their  palisaded  playground  the 
little  Currys  watched  the  gambols  of  bears  on  the  river- 
bank,  and  the  cry  of  the  wild-cat  and  the  coyote  was 
familiar  music.  But  Chloe  was  not  afraid,  —  her  great- 
great-grandmothers  had  known  these  sounds  when 
America  was  young. 

Politicians  flocked  up  the  river,  and  down ;  for  though 
Salem  now  had  been  set  apart  for  the  capital  and  the 
contract  had  been  let  for  the  new  statehouse,  still,  the 
Governor's  headquarters  were  practically  at  home.  Often 
and  often  old  Father  Time  with  his  scythe,  on  the  mantel, 
announced  midnight  before  Governor  Curry  finished  his 
letters  and  left  the  big  red  mahogany  armchair  for  his 
slumbers.  A  picturesque  figure  was  the  Governor  in 
those  days,  riding  up  and  down  rivers  in  Indian  canoes, 
or  plunging  over  hills  in  his  old  dragoon  saddle,  with  his 
black,  broad-brimmed  soft  hat  flopping  over  his  long  hair, 
wet  in  the  misty  rain. 

Desiring  peace,  yet  drawn  into  contentions,  a  cross  the 
Bostonian  seemed  between  a  knight  of  King  Arthur's 
time  and  a  modern  cavalryman.  Some  of  the  toil  and 
hazard  of  young  men  about  him  he  imbibed,  in  hard 
riding  at  a  gallop  with  a  Spanish-bit  bridle  and  long 
leather  leggings.  With  his  lariat  rolled  up  on  the  horn 
of  his  saddle  and  his  head  thrust  through  a  Mexican 
poncho,  away  he  would  go,  through  rain  and  mud,  ex 
posed  to  hunger  and  weather,  sleeping  in  camp  or  cabin 
wherever  night  found  him,  from  the  Rogue  to  the  Dalles, 
meditating,  arbitrating,  or  organizing  defences,  as  the 
case  required. 

Late  at  night  the  children  would  hear  the  father's  step ; 
the  Indian  dog  bayed  a  welcome.  "  Jack,  Jack,"  he  called, 
that  Chloe  might  know  who  it  was.  With  a  low  whine 
Jack  gave  his  master  answer,  the  door-bolt  clicked,  and 
Chloe  from  her  slumbers  welcomed  home  her  knight- 
errant  from  his  arduous  journeys.  Sometimes  he  came 


THE    BOONE-CURRY    HOMESTEAD      339 

early,  —  when  the  orchards  were  in  bloom,  and  boats 
were  tied  up  for  the  night,  and  the  house  was  full  of 
company,  French  fiddlers  for  dancing,  —  waiting  for  the 
Governor.  The  library  desk  was  piled  with  unanswered 
letters,  a  score  of  petitioners  were  waiting  with  bills  to 
be  signed,  and  Chloe,  with  the  tact  of  a  statesman,  kept 
them  in  good  humor,  and  —  waiting  for  the  Governor. 
With  not  a  hostelry  nearer  than  Oregon  City,  Hazelglade 
must  of  necessity  be  camp  and  inn  and  guesthouse  and 
seat  of  government,  all  in  one. 

For  ten  years  immigrants  had  been  floating  down  the 
Columbia;  for  seven  years  they  had  scaled  the  Barlow 
road  over  the  foothills  of  Mount  Hood,  or,  through  the 
southern  route,  had  battled  with  Chief  John  in  his  Sugar 
Pine  Groves.  How  many  had  been  massacred  or  car 
ried  into  hopeless  captivity,  none  knew.  Miners  now 
and  then  reported  young  people  among  the  Rogues, 
the  Klamaths,  the  Umpquas,  taken  in  childhood,  and 
now  to  all  intents  and  purposes  grown  into  Indians 
themselves. 

Women's  dresses  and  babies'  socks,  the  caps  of  little 
lads  and  pinafores  of  tiny  girls  stowed  in  Indian  tepees 
mutely  testified  to  crimes  in  those  lonely  dells.  Chiefs 
stalked  around  in  cradle-quilts,  directing  the  building  of 
signal-fires  along  the  southern  heights. 

'  You  can  pass,  but  not  stop,"  was  Chief  John's  watch 
word.  But  the  gold  hunters  defied  Chief  John. 

One  Christmas  Eve  two  drivers  of  a  cattle-train  camped 
in  Chief  John's  country;  that  night  they  discovered 
placers  of  extraordinary  richness.  Miners  trooped  in, 
one  man  picked  up  fifty  thousand  dollars,  and  Jackson's 
gulch  became  Jacksonville.  Flour  in  the  winter  of  '52 
ran  up  to  a  clollar  a  pound  in  Jacksonville,  tobacco  a 
dollar  an  ounce,  and  salt  was  priceless.  The  Applegate 
mill  at  Yoncalla  was  humming  day  and  night  for  pack- 
trains  and  for  settlers.  With  spring,  farmers  began 
ploughing;  every  morning  arrows  were  found  sticking 
in  the  newly  turned  sod. 

11  Why  do  you  steal  our  horses  and  kill  our  stock?" 
one  expostulated  with  Chief  John.  With  a  loud  laugh 


340  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

and  a  wave  of  his  hand,  "Clotawak!"  Chief  John  galloped 
out  of  sight. 

Rapidly    the    Indians    were    becoming    robbers    and 
bandits. 


IX 

WHOSE   COUNTRY? 

"  T  N  the  name  and  for  the  sake  of  your  suffering 
friends,  we  ask  you  to  use  your  influence  with  the 

JL  Government  for  the  speedy  extinction  of  Indian 
titles,"  came  the  steady  appeal  from  Puget  Sound.  For 
who  had  farms  and  who  had  not  was  still  unsettled. 

Governor  Stevens  and  General  Joe  Lane  at  Washington 
had  talked  it  over  and  over,  and  now  Governor  Stevens 
was  back,  bringing  his  beautiful  wife,  Margaret  Hazard 
of  Newport,  paddling  and  poling  with  an  Indian  crew  up 
the  rapids  of  the  Cowlitz.  But  to-day  Margaret  Stevens 
remembered  no  more  the  vine-shaded  villas  of  Newport; 
her  every  thought  was  fixed  on  the  four  children  in  the 
bottom  of  that  frail,  uncertain  bark  upon  that  tempestu 
ous  water  from  which  even  Colonel  Simmons  had  once 
turned  back  in  dismay.  By  sea  and  across  Panama  they 
had  come  to  the  continuous  woods,  where,  walled  in  by 
mountains,  a  handful  of  settlers,  isolated  beside  their 
lonely  Mediterranean,  waited  for  the  one  whose  magic 
word  had  opened  the  treasury  of  the  United  States  in 
their  behalf.  For,  reporting  his  surveys,  Governor 
Stevens  had  secured  $30,000  for  the  Mullan  military 
road  from  the  Great  Falls  of  the  Missouri  to  Walla 
Walla,  $25,000  for  a  road  from  the  Dalles  to  Fort  Van 
couver,  $30,000  for  one  from  Vancouver  to  Fort  Steila- 
coom,  $89,000  for  lighthouses  on  the  coast,  and  $100,000 
to  treat  with  the  Indians. 

At  last  the  prayers  of  Washington  Territory  were  to 
be  granted.  "  Never  can  we  build  the  Northern  Pacific 
railroad  until  Indian  titles  are  extinguished,"  said  the 
£jovernor.  "  It  will  only  invite  border  wars." 


WHOSE    COUNTRY?  341 

On  a  dreary,  dark,  December  day  his  party  now  sighted 
Olympia,  a  forlorn  capital  of  twenty  small  houses  in  a 
clearing  at  the  head  of  Puget  Sound.  "  You  can't  see 
the  town  for  the  stumps,  Margaret,"  laughed  the  Gov 
ernor  in  an  attempt  to  be  cheerful.  No  halo  hung  over 
the  streets  of  mud,  no  music  harmonized  the  discordant 
bark  of  Indian  dogs  around  tepees  that  surrounded  the 
forest  hamlet.  Wet,  cold,  and  ill,  the  belle  of  Newport 
burst  into  tears. 

"  Margaret !  "  Without  another  word  the  Governor  led 
his  wife  into  his  office,  prepared  already  by  kindly  hands 
with  a  glowing  fire,  with  beds  on  the  floor,  and  books, 
books  everywhere,  that  amid  multitudinous  duties  he  had 
selected  and  shipped  around  Cape  Horn  for  a  Territorial 
library.  Closing  the  world  out,  Governor  Stevens  spoke 
as  he  had  often  spoken :  "  Dearest,  if  I  achieve  what  may 
truly  be  called  success,  it  will  be  due  mainly  to  you." 

Devoted,  tender,  sympathetic,  the  daughter  of  Rhode 
Island  turned  her  lustrous  eyes  full  upon  her  husband. 
Instantly  chill,  inconvenience,  discomfort  were  forgotten, 
for  here,  even  here,  were  love  and  confidence.  In  one 
bound  she  rose  to  the  courage  of  Chloe  Boone,  child  of 
the  pioneer. 

In  a  few  days  a  house  was  ready,  the  thin,  papered 
board  contrivance  of  a  new  settlement,  half  shelter,  half 
summer-house.  But  from  its  fir-surrounded  porch  Mar 
garet  Stevens  beheld  panoramas  of  mountain,  sea,  and 
sky,  surpassing  even  her  own  loved  Narragansett,  along 
whose  beaches  as  a  girl  she  had  galloped  on  the  most 
noted  saddle-horse  of  Newport.  What  if  wild-cats  did 
screech  and  owls  hoot?  what  if  wolves  did  howl  and 
skunks  ran  over  the  roof  at  night?  What  else  could  be 
expected  in  a  land  primeval? 

When  Summer  shone  bright  and  the  Governor  was 
away  on  his  Indian  treaties,  Mrs.  Stevens  might  often 
be  seen  with  her  children  riding  across  prairies,  skirting 
dense  forests,  snowy  mountains,  and  limpid  lakes,  ex 
ploring  as  far  as  Fort  Steilacoom,  where  United  States 
officials  and  their  wives  were  stationed. 

Naval  ships  with  agreeable  officers  on  board  sometimes 


342  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

came  up  the  Sound  to  take  on  the  Governor  at  the  foot 
of  his  own  garden,  where  a  gate  in  the  rear  fence  opened 
on  the  water.  Members  of  the  Northern  Pacific  explor 
ing  expedition  gathered  there,  and  cooks  of  the  route 
became  cooks  of  the  Governor's  family,  with  his  numer 
ous  retinue  of  guests,  state  officials,  and  legislators,  gath 
ering  to  hear  the  executive  message  and  to  plan  for 
Territorial  development. 

On  his  first  journey  out  Governor  Stevens  had  begun 
preparing  the  minds  of  the  Indians  for  coming  treaties. 
The  horse  Indians  of  the  Upper  Country  were  expecting 
him.  On  the  Sound,  too,  the  fishing  Indians  waited. 
Great  gossips  were  they  in  the  quiet  of  their  lodge  fires. 
Like  a  Greek  chorus,  one  spoke,  and  another,  in  the 
tribal  conclaves.  "  Big  White  Chief  say  Washington  buy 
our  country.  Buy  our  country.  Buy  our  country." 

It  was  a  long  time  before  this  point  was  even  to  a 
slight  degree  digested.  For  a  long  time  white  settlers, 
fencing  up  pasture  and  camas  and  beaver-dam  lands,  had 
said,  "  A  white  chief  will  come  out  from  Washington 
and  pay  for  your  lands." 

"Our  lands.  Our  lands."  That  land  could  be  sold 
was  a  new  idea. 

'  Take  our  country,"  muttered  the  squaws.  "  Take 
our  country,"  echoed  the  old  men.  "  Take  our  camas 
land,  take  our  pastures,  where  then  we  go  ?  "  All  through 
the  rainy  December,  Colonel  Simmons  and  Frank  Shaw 
were  carrying  the  word,  "  Gather,"  at  such  a  time  and 
place,  "  and  we  will  build  a  great  council  fire  for  the 
Governor." 

"  What  for?  "  chorused  Indians  at  every  village. 

"  So  many  settlers  coming,"  answered  Shaw.  "  We 
must  set  apart  your  land  and  our  land.  You  see  we 
cannot  stop  the  settlements.  If  something  is  not  done 
the  white  man  will  take  the  whole  country  and  leave  you 
none,  not  even  a  place  on  which  to  pitch  your  teepees. 
You  are  being  driven  from  your  hunting  and  fishing 
grounds ;  something  must  be  done  for  your  protection." 

Snohodemtah  at  Olympia  heard  it,  and  Leschi,  who 
had  invited  the  white  man.  Chief  Seattle  cast  his  eye  up 


WHOSE    COUNTRY?  343 

the  Northern  waterway  and  remembered  the  promise  of 
last  year,  and  Patkanim  reflected,  "  This  Chief  cannot  be 
trifled  with."  He  had  met  him  at  Snoqualmie,  and  had 
shown  him  the  pass. 

Even  to  the  utmost  recesses  of  the  deep  Snohomish 
woods  the  strangers  had  penetrated,  not  for  skins,  like 
the  Hudson  Bay  people,  but  for  roads,  roads.  "  These 
white  men  are  mad  after  roads,"  said  the  Indian.  "  Is 
not  a  trail  enough  ?  " 

Governor  Stevens  sent  a  messenger  into  the  Yakima 
country  to  arrange  for  a  grand  council  in  May.  "  Where 
shall  it  be?  "  inquired  agent  Bolon. 

"  On  the  ancient  council  ground  of  my  people,  Walla 
Walla,"  decided  Kamiakin  after  many  evasions. 

"  The  Governor  sends  presents." 

Barely  the  chief  glanced  up.  "  I  never  accepted  any 
thing  from  the  whites,  not  even  to  the  value  of  a  grain  of 
wheat,  without  paying  for  it,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  buy 
these  presents." 

The  Walla  Wallas  heard  of  the  council,  and  the 
Spokanes,  and  Cayuses.  Newsmongers  told  tales  of  other 
tribes,  mentioned  reservations. 

"  Going  to  send  Willamettes  over  here.  Took  their 
country.  Willamettes  have  no  country  now." 

In  long  pauses,  they  considered  this  piece  of  news. 

"  Trouble  down  in  Klamath  land.  -Indians  on  Rogue 
River  kill  white  men.  White  men  send  soldiers,  kill 
many  Indians." 

"  Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah,"  —  long  silences  as  the  dusky 
red  men  watched  the  fire.  The  Cayuses  remembered  the 
massacre  of  Whitman,  and  their  own  punishment. 

Two  great  trains  crossed  the  Columbia  River  in  the 
Autumn  of  '54,  better  equipped,  than  any  yet,  with  all 
accessories  to  travel  in  comfort,  and  entered  the  Nachess 
Pass.  Then  came  that  awful  rumor  —  "Massacre!" 
Washington  Territory  was  petrified.  Fear-haunted  hearts 
waited.  At  last,  —  at  last  the  white  covers  of  wagon 
tops  were  sighted  a  mile  away,  safe,  safe;  not  these  had 
fallen.  But  back,  near  Fort  Boise,  on  the  Snake,  twenty- 
one  persons  from  Kentucky  had  been  ambuscaded,  and 


344  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

burned  with  unspeakable  torture.  Oregon,  too,  not  yet 
recovered  from  the  horrors  of  the  Rogue  River  uprising, 
was  in  a  panicky  state.  Women  slept  with  revolvers 
under  their  pillows.  Consternation  and  solicitude  con 
cerning  the  unsettled  relations  of  Americans  and  Indians 
made  a  prospective  foe  out  of  every  redskin  that  travelled 
the  forest  or  paddled  the  waters. 

In  his  country  seat  at  Hazelglade,  Governor  Curry 
heard  mutterings  of  the  coming  storm.  His  hands  were 
full  as  both  Governor  and  Secretary  of  Oregon,  getting 
ready  for  the  legislature  to  meet  in  the  new  capitol 
building  at  Salem.  Two  halls  were  partially  finished, 
"  although  not  a  pane  of  glass  in  the  windows  as  yet,"  he 
was  writing  to  Joe  Lane  at  Washington.  "  But,  my  dear 
friend,  it  will  not  do  to  let  those  Indians  go  unpunished." 

What  seas  of  savages  might  descend  upon  the  defence 
less  few,  who  could  tell  ?  The  forest  spaces  were  so  vast, 
so  dim,  —  and  where  was  Government  ?  "  It  is  the  old 
story,"  sighed  Chloe,  "the  story  of  my  father  and 
grandfather,  for  the  occupation  of  this  country.  You 
must  protect  the  settlements.'' 


X 

THE   GREAT   COUNCIL 

,  come,  girls,  I  am  sure  this  must  be  the  Cayuse 
Chief!" 

Beautiful  Margaret  Campbell,  standing  at  her 
sunrise  lattice  at  old  Fort  Walla  Walla,  beheld  a  gay 
cavalier,    Caucasian-featured,    but    dark    as    an    Indian, 
reining  up  below.     If  Billy  McKay  noted  the  face  at  the 
lattice  he  gave  no  sign,  for,  spurring  on  matters  of  state, 
he  had  come  to  find  the  master  of  Walla  Walla. 
"  Sinclair,  up  yet?  " 
Not  altogether  gracious  was  that   call   of   Dominick 


THE    GREAT    COUNCIL,  345 

Pambrun  to  the  new  master,  for  suddenly,  and  without 
warning,  James  Sinclair,  elevated  to  the  honors  and 
emoluments  of  a  chief  factorship,  had  come  to  super 
sede  him  at  the  Hudson  Bay  Fort.  Having  turned  over 
the  books,  Pambrun  was  at  this  moment  preparing  for 
departure. 

"  I  beg  you,  sir,  remember  that  I  am  Chief  Factor 
here,"  haughtily  replied  that  worthy,  issuing  from  within. 
"What  will  the  messenger  have?" 

With  lifted  hat  and  the  bow  of  a  courtier,  McKay 
faced  the  new  dignitary.  "  Sir,  Governor  Isaac  I.  Stevens 
of  Washington  Territory  has  arranged  with  General  Joel 
Palmer  of  Oregon  to  hold  an  Indian  council  near  this 
place,  and  desires  to  store  his  goods  and  presents  in  the 
fort." 

"  Oh,  oh,  certainly,  if  that 's  all."  Sinclair  turned 
on  his  heel.  At  that  moment  a  hail  rang  across  the 
Columbia ;  keelboats  laden  with  freight  were  approaching 
the  big  bend. 

As  the  Chief  Factor  went  out,  McKay  turned  to  grasp 
the  hand  of  his  old  schoolmate  of  Vancouver  days.  '*  You 
and  I  have  been  chosen  interpreters,  Dominick." 

As  much  like  Ranald  McDonald  as  peas  of  the  same 
pod,  these  two  educated  Indian  sons  of  Hudson  Bay 
factors  were  about  to  use  their  best  offices  to  accommodate 
the  races  from  which  they  sprang. 

And  still  at  the  window  stood  Margaret,  grand 
daughter  of  McGillivray,  once  a  great  name  in  the  north 
country.  A  younger  sister  of  Sinclair's  wife,  she  had 
come  out  with  them  from  Manitoba. 

McKay  looked  up,  Margaret  looked  down.  What 
mischief  seized  Dominick  Pambrun?  "Miss  Campbell," 
he  called,  "  when  you  are  mistress  of  Hontimini  you 
will  have  to  get  up  early."  The  lattice  snapped  shut. 
Hontimini  was  McKay's  place,  whither  he  had  been 
invited  by  the  chiefs  after  the  close  of  the  Cayuse  war. 

In  the  month  of  blooms,  1855,  five  thousand  warriors 
assembled  on  the  traditional  council  ground  of  \Valla 
Walla,  —  first  the  Nez  Perces,  readiest  for  civilization; 
then  the  Cayuses,  dark,  scowling,  and  vengeful;  the 


346  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Walla  Wallas,  meditating  on  the  white  man's  growing 
power;  the  suspicious  Umatillas,  foreseeing  the  subju 
gation  of  their  beloved  country;  and  late  and  last,  the 
unwilling  Yakimas,  ominously  sullen,  riding  as  far  as 
possible  from  the  Commissioners'  tent,  and  pitching  camp 
behind  the  bushes.  Before  them  springtime  rippled  and 
billowed  with  almost  preternatural  bloom.  On  the  site 
of  a  future  city  not  alone  met  these  specific  tribes  and 
whites,  but  all  ages,  all  time,  since  the  ruling  races  bent 
westward  and  the  nomads  east,  fleeing  from  each  other 
until  the  globe  was  girdled.  To-day,  on  the  field  of 
Walla  Walla,  the  circuit  ended.  Asia  faced  America. 
Would  there  be  a  truce?  Would  the  Mongol  wanderer 
subside  into  European  civilization? 

From    the    first,    suggestive    rumors    were    flying,  - 
"  Kamiakin's  young  men  will  bring  powder  and  ball." 
"  Opening  the  council  will  be  the  signal  for  an  outbreak." 

Even  as  far  back  as  the  Dalles  Governor  Stevens  had 
been  warned :  "  Go  not.  The  Indians  are  plotting  to  cut 
off  the  white  chiefs  who  may  attempt  to  hold  a  council." 

But  who  ever  knew  Governor  Stevens  to  turn  back,  - 
even  in  the  face  of  ten  thousand  rifles  when  he  led  the 
charge  in  '62,  and  gave  up  his  life  at  Chantilly?  If  to 
day  one  heart  gave  a  quicker  throb  none  knew  it,  when 
with  clashing  shields  and  beating  drums  the  tribes  came 
galloping  as  if  to  battle,  wheeling  anon  in  swift  evolu 
tions,  whooping  the  war  cry.  To  the  penetrating  eye 
of  the  Indian  not  a  quiver  passed  over  the  pale  face. 

Smilingly  the  Commissioners  congratulated  the  splendid 
riders. 
'    "  Have  some  provisions  ?  " 

Flour,  bacon,  coffee,  sugar,  potatoes,  lay  in  stacks, 
the  Nez  Perces,  Joseph,  Lawyer,  and  Spotted  Eagle, 
tarried,  smoked,  and  accepted  the  rations.  Piopiomox- 
mox  and  Cayuse  Young  Chief  coldly  shook  their  heads. 
"  We  have  plenty  of  cattle." 

"  Then  take  something  for  the  Yakimas." 

"  Kamiakin  is  supplied  at  our  camp,"  was  the  chilling 
reply. 

"  The  haughty  carriage  of  these  chiefs,  and  their  manly 


THE    GREAT    COUNCIL  347 

bearing,  have  for  the  first  time  in  my  Indian  experience 
realized  the  description  of  writers  of  fiction,"  exclaimed 
Governor  Stevens,  as  with  swinging  sidelocks  braided 
with  beads,  fringes,  and  war  plumes  fluttering  in  the  sun, 
they  galloped  away. 

The  council  opened.  Dimly,  through  interpreters,  a 
sense  was  caught  of  reservations,  railroads,  telegraphs. 
The  very  words  had  an  ominous  sound  to  the  Indian  ear. 
There  was  a  hunted  look  in  their  eyes  at  the  mention 
of  school  teachers,  mechanics,  farmers  —  no  response 
came  from  any  Indian.  Piopiomoxmox  turned  away  his 
sharp-featured  Egyptian  face;  Kamiakin  slunk  into 
shadow  of  the  tent  folds. 

All  was  silent  as  the  dead. 

Again  all  was  gone  over,  and  still  no  sign  of  com 
prehension. 

The  white  chiefs  were  almost  out  of  patience  with  this 
sullen,  silent  throng  that  refused  to  answer. 

"  Can  we  bring  these  sawmills  and  these  gristmills 
on  our  backs  to  show  these  people? "  cried  General 
Palmer.  "  Can  we  bring  these  blacksmith's  shops,  these 
wagons  and  tents,  on  our  backs  to  show  at  this  time? 
Can  we  cause  fields  of  wheat  and  corn  to  spring  up  in  a 
day  that  you  may  see  them  ?  Can  we  build  these  school- 
houses  and  dwellings  in  a  day?  Can  we  bring  all  the 
money  that  these  things  will  cost  that- you  may  see  it? 
It  takes  time  to  do  these  things.  But  whatever  we 
promise  to  give,  you  will  get." 

"  My  heart  cried  out  when  you  first  spoke  to  me," 
began  Piopiomoxmox,  breaking  the  stillness.  "  Let 
your  heart  be  to  separate  as  we  are,  and  appoint  some 
other  time.  We  shall  have  no  bad  minds.  Stop  the 
Bostons  from  coming  here  until  we  have  this  talk.  Let 
them  not  bring  their  axes  with  them.  The  Bostons  may 
travel  in  all  directions  through  our  country.  We  will 
say  nothing  to  them  provided  they  do  not  build  houses 
on  our  lands." 

"  I  do  not  see  the  offer  you  have  made  us  yet.  I  am 
blind,  I  do  not  understand.  Lawyer  understood  your 
offer  and  took  it,"  stammered  Young  Chief  of  the 


348  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Cayuses,  when  Lawyer,  the  Nez  Perce,  agreed  to  give  up 
the  valuable  strip  along  the  Snake  where  now  stands  the 
city  of  Lewiston,  Idaho. 

More  than  any  others  the  Nez  Perces  welcomed  the 
whites.  Lawyer  himself,  as  a  child,  fifty  years  before, 
screamed  at  the  sight  of  Lewis  and  Clark,  and  was  hidden 
by  his  sister  in  the  bushes.  He  it  was  who  went  out  to 
the  mountains  to  meet  the  first  missionaries,  and  helped 
to  set  up  the  first  printing  press  west  of  the  Rocky  Moun 
tains.  Now  he  said,  "  I  approve  of  the  treaty ;  but  do 
not  deceive  us." 

All  the  Nez  Perces  ever  had  asked  was,  "  Peace, 
ploughs,  and  schools." 

"  What  have  I  to  be  talking  about?  "  retorted  Kamiakin 
when  called  upon  to  speak.  Not  asleep  had  he  listened, 
but  with  rage  and  suspicion,  his  face,  hands,  his  whole 
soul  pantomiming  the  apprehension  within. 

"  A  peculiar  man,  reminding  me  of  the  panther  and 
grizzly  bear,"  whispered  the  Governor,  who  had  been 
watching  Kamiakin.  "  His  countenance  has  an  extraor 
dinary  play,  at  one  moment  in  frowns,  the  next  in  smiles, 
—  flashing  with  light,  and  black  as  Erebus." 

"  Civilization  all  claptrap,"  muttered  Kamiakin. 

There  were  stormy  times  at  the  Indian  campfires  and 
secret  councils  in  the  night.  Lawyer  and  his  people  were 
not  admitted,  but  he  heard  of  a  plot. 

"  Let  us  scalp  this  handful  of  boasters,"  the  Cayuses 
were  conspiring.  Late  at  night  Lawyer  stole  to  the 
Governor's  tent. 

"  They  say  kill  White  Tyee.  Lawyer  move  his  tent 
into  camp  of  White  Tyee.  When  they  strike,  they  strike 
Lawyer."  And  to  the  surprise  of  everybody  Chief 
Lawyer  pitched  his  lodge  in  the  midst  of  the  Commis 
sioners'  camp. 

The  effect  was  immediate  and  conclusive. 

"  Do  not  surrender  your  lands,"  Kamiakin  had  been 
pleading.  "  These  pretended  treaties  are  a  ruse  to  get 
us  out  of  the  way."  But  now  he  saw  all  going  over  to 
the  Nez  Perces.  Even  Owhi  and  Piopiomoxmox  were 
saying,  "  Let  us  sign." 


THE    GREAT    COUNCIL  349 

Flinging  back  his  tawny  mane,  "  Sign,  sign,  if  you 
want  to  sign,"  cried  Kamiakin  in  desperation.  "  Let  us 
all  sign  and  get  what  we  can.  These  officers  of  the  White 
Chief  are  lying  to  us.  Watch,  wait,  look !  If  they  pay, 
it  is  well.  If  they  pay  not,  be  ready.  Get  powder,  get 
lead,  get  provisions.  When  the  rivers  are  frozen,  when 
the  mountains  are  deep  with  snow,  strike.  The  soldiers 
are  few.  The  whites  beyond  the  mountains  are  far  away. 
Strike,  in  the  dead  of  winter." 

Kamiakin  was  an  arch  diplomatist.  Would  he  make  a 
last  effort  to  save  his  country?  Thousands  of  dollars 
had  been  offered  the  Yakimas,  thousands  to  the  Nez 
Perces  and  to  the  Walla  Wallas,  in  addition  to  princely 
dominions.  In  the  noonday  throng  Kamiakin  arose  to 
withdraw  his  opposition. 

"  Look !  "  Dominick  Pambrun  punched  McKay.  "  See 
Kamiakin.  We  shall  all  be  killed  " ;  for  last  to  give  up, 
turning  to  take  his  seat,  with  face  distorted  in  rage  he 
had  bitten  his  lip  through,  and  blood  dripped  on  his 
bosom. 

At  that  instant  Looking  Glass,  war  chief  of  the  Nez 
Perces,  came  galloping  in  from  a  three  years'  buffalo 
hunt  in  the  Blackfoot  country.  In  the  Bitter  Root  val 
ley  he  had  heard  of  the  great  council.  Crossing  the  moun 
tains  deep  with  snow  to  his  horses'  shoulders,  with  a 
few  chosen  braves  he  had  ridden  three  -hundred  miles  in 
seven  days  at  the  age  of  seventy.  Like  a  gale  from  the 
Blackfoot  battle,  with  scalp  locks  at  his  belt,  excited  and 
angry,  Looking  Glass  rode  into  the  council.  Friends 
pressed  to  greet  him ;  he  waved  them  back.  Like  a  shriek 
his  cry  rang: 

"  My  people,  what  have  you  done  ?  While  I  was  gone 
you  have  sold  my  country.  I  have*  come  home,  and  there 
is  not  left  me  a  place  on  which  to  pitch  my  lodge.  Go 
home  to  your  lodges.  I  will  talk  to  you." 

Immediately  the  council  arose  in  tumult,  while  Look 
ing  Glass,  in  the  torrential  flood  of  a  tempest,  poured 
invectives  upon  Lawyer,  accusing  him  of  treachery  and 
cowardice. 

"  Stop ! "    interposed   Piopiomoxmox   in   a   tone   that 


350  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

hushed  even  the  angry  war-chief.  "  Who  are  you  to  use 
such  strong  words  ?  Who  made  you  to  defy  Washington  ? 
Come  down  from  that  horse  and  we  will  talk  some  sense." 

At  this  Looking  Glass  and  his  men  dismounted,  and 
Governor  Stevens,  taking  advantage  of  the  momentary 
silence,  made  a  speech  for  the  special  benefit  and  instruc 
tion  of  Looking  Glass.  As  the  parties  moved  away, 
anxiously  Governor  Stevens  consulted  Lawyer. 

"  Don't  worry ;  Looking  Glass  will  calm  down  in  a 
day  or  two,"  said  the  Nez  Perce  high  chief. 

And  now,  strange  to  say,  Piopiomoxmox  devoted  him 
self  to  the  conversion  of  Looking  Glass.  To  the  influ 
ential  Walla  Walla,  in  addition  to  more  liberal  terms 
than  to  any  other,  had  been  granted  the  privilege  of  main 
taining  a  trading  post  at  the  mouth  of  the  Yakima,  where 
immigrants  were  crossing  every  summer  to  the  Nachess 
Pass. 

Homeric  were  the  days,  —  Stevens  explaining  and 
arguing  with  Kamiakin  in  his  tent  until  one  o'clock  in 
the  morning;  hostile  Cayuses  counselling  all  night 
long;  Lawyer  abruptly  retiring  to  his  lodge  in  the 
midst  of  Looking  Glass's  philippics ;  and  at  last,  —  the 
concession. 

With  pomp  and  ceremonial  seldom  equalled  on  Indian 
ground,  the  mounted  tribes  circled  two  and  two  on  their 
swift  steeds  before  the  Commissioners'  tent  in  the  early 
morning  sun.  Stripped  to  the  waist,  pleased  and  cordial, 
Piopiomoxmox  led  the  train  and  affixed  his  name  first 
to  the  historic  Walla  Walla  Treaty. 

"  I  want  to  do  what  is  best  for  my  people,"  he  said. 
All  the  fifty-six  chiefs  signed,  even  Kamiakin;  and  thus 
were  ceded  the  future  wheat-fields  and  orchards  of 
Eastern  Oregon,  Washington,  and  Idaho.  The  largest, 
most  dramatic,  and  most  dangerous  council  ever  held  with 
the  American  aborigine  was  ended.  Fourteen  days  fifty 
white  men  had  been  at  the  mercy  of  five  thousand 
warriors,  and  had  won. 

"  Everything  shall  remain  as  it  is,"  said  the  Commis 
sioners,  "  until  this  treaty  shall  be  ratified  by  the  President 
and  the  Senate  of  the  United  States." 


GOLD!  GOLD  AT  FORT  COLVILLE!  351 

The  presents  were  brought  out  from  Fort  Walla  Walla 
and  distributed,  —  to  all  but  Kamiakin. 

"  Don't  ask  me  to  accept  presents.  I  have  never  taken 
one  from  a  white  man.  When  payments  are  made  I  will 
take  my  share." 

Enlisting  Looking  Glass  and  his  band  as  an  escort, 
Governor  Stevens  hurried  on  to  his  treaties  with  the 
Blackfeet,  opening  a  way  for  the  Northern  Pacific  rail 
road.  But  the  Indians  were  dancing,  dancing,  and  the 
squaws  danced  with  them. 

"  An  ominous  sign,"  said  McKay  to  Margaret  of 
Walla  Walla.  More  than  once  during  the  progress 
of  recent  events  had  the  young  physician  slipped  away 
to  talk  with  the  girl  he  had  seen  at  the  lattice. 


XI 
GOLD!  GOLD  AT  FORT  COLVILLE! 

A  Governor  Stevens,  with  Looking  Glass  and  his  Nez 
Perce  escort,  rode  east  to  the  Blackfoot  country  on 
the  25th  of  June,  an  express  rider  from  Angus 
McDonald  passed  him,  bearing  news  of  the  discovery 
of  gold  at  Fort  Colville.  Almost  simultaneously  into 
Oregon  came  word  of  the  accomplished  treaties  and  of  the 
gold  find.  In  three  days  packtrains  over  the  Mt.  Hood 
Barlow  route  were  stampeding  to  the  north.  Seattle, 
Olympia,  all  the  Sound  settlements  likewise  went  rushing 
through  the  Nachess  Pass.  The  Indians  were  astonished. 
It  seemed  as  though  that  act  of  signing  had  opened  the 
flood  gates  for  the  whole  Boston  people  to  come  surging 
into  their  country. 

"  Go,  or  be  shot,"  said  Kamiakin.  Some  lingered. 
"  No  white  man  can  settle  until  the  lands  are  paid  for." 

In  twenty-four  hours  Kamiakin's  runners  were  flying 
from  Puget  Sound  to  Klamath.  Red  signal-fires  glowered 


352  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

on  all  the  hills,  the  oriflamme  of  Kamiakin.  In  all  the 
valleys  red  Indian  girls  were  dancing,  —  all  but  the  Nez 
Perces.  Young  warriors  looked  on  as  their  light  forms 
waved  to  and  fro  before  the  camp-fires.  They  held  out 
their  hands  and  beckoned.  One  by  one  the  warriors  took 
their  hands  and  fell  to  dancing.  That  was  enlistment, 
and  every  girl  placed  in  her  lover's  hand  a  bunch  of 
moccasins  for  his  trip  to  battle. 

"  The  whites  are  moving  upon  us,"  said  Kamiakin  to 
Angus  McDonald  at  Fort  Colville.  "  Why  do  the  Bostons 
lie  to  us,  taking  our  land  without  paying,  even  fencing 
our  favorite  camping  grounds  ?  I  am  going  to  war  about 
this." 

All  Summer  Kamiakin  was  concentrating  the  tribes. 
There  were  journeys  to  Leschi.  Numbers  were  sent  into 
the  Oregon  valleys,  slender,  feminine,  graceful  Japanese- 
featured  steeple-chasers  on  their  tough  Indian  ponies, 
following  the  trails  to  every  haunt  of  the  red  men. 

"  What  are  so  many  wandering  Indians  coming  into  the 
Willamette  for  ?  "  Superintendent  Joel  Palmer  of  Oregon 
sent  them  back.  But  some  eluded,  and  reached  Chief 
John  on  the  River  Rogue. 


XII 

MARGARET   OF  WALLA   WALLA 

A    the   Columbia   crossing,   an   aged   Walla   Walla, 
watching  his  horses,  saw  miners  trampling  down 
his  pastures.     The  last  frightful  weeks  had  whit 
ened  his  hair  into  a  mop  of  silver  down  his  back.    A  shot 
gun  stood  by  his  side.    He  faced  the  other  way  when  stran 
gers  approached,  and  in  answer  to  inquiries  only  waved 
his  arm  with  the  word,  "  Clatawah!  "  ("  Hasten  on!  ") 

"  I  have  two  souls  in  me,"  said  Piopiomoxmox.  "  One 
has  been  true  to  the  white  man,  the  other  is  loyal  to  mine 
own  people.  Sometimes  the  two  souls  fight  together." 


MARGARET  OF  WALLA  WALLA   353 

In  the  silent  night  the  old  chief  turned  uneasily  on  his 
couch  of  skins.  A  small  gray  wolf  ran  howling  by.  He 
recalled  the  teachings  of  the  medicine  men,  he  seemed  to 
hear  the  voices  of  the  memclose  illihcc  (the  dead  country) 
warning  him  from  the  land  of  spirits.  His  face  was  ashen 
when  he  rose  with  the  sun.  "  Did  you  hear  the  medicine 
wolf  last  night  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  squaws  were  flitting  hither  and  yon,  toasting  elk 
steak  on  the  hot  rocks.  "  Yes,  we  heard  the  medicine 
wolf,"  answered  the  Walla  Wallas. 

"  I  dreamed  I  was  devoured  by  a  bear,"  said  Piopio- 
moxmox,  gazing  on  the  ground.  "  I  heard  vultures  and 
ravens.  I  saw  bloody  battle.  Never  since  the  great  wolf 
and  the  gray  bear  scrambled  the  mountains  together  has 
such  calamity  hung  over  the  Walla  Wallas." 

Awed  by  his  tone  the  warriors  left  the  steak  untasted ; 
the  women  went  out  to  wail. 

Piopiomoxmox  thought  of  the  missionaries  who  had 
taught  and  loved  his  son  Elijah. 

"  I  will  send  to  them,"  he  said.  "  Tell  them  we  are 
in  trouble.  Tell  them  to  come  to  us.  Whatever  they 
say,  that  will  we  do  as  though  it  were  the  voice  of 
God." 

A  runner  sped  to  the  Willamette  and  delivered  the 
message  to  Jason  Lee's  old  associates  at  Salem. 

"Shall  we  go?"  said  the  missionaries  to  Governor 
Curry. 

"  No,"  thundered  the  executive.  "  If  the  Indians  want 
war,  let  them  have  war,  and  the  sooner  the  better." 

Piopiomoxmox  waited  and  watched  in  vain.  Day  after 
day  he  stood  at  his  tent  door,  shading  his  eyes  toward  the 
Willamette.  Then,  when  the  fires  were  on  all  the  hills, 
he  threw  himself  into  the  conflict  for  his  country.  With 
his  warriors  he  rode  to  Fort  Walla  Walla. 

"  Powder !    Shot !  "  he  demanded  at  the  trade  window. 

"  We  cannot  give  it ;   the  Chief  Factor  is  absent." 

Margaret  Campbell,  in  charge  of  the  fort,  was  sur 
prised  when  the  friendly  old  chief  she  had  liked  so  well 
pressed  into  the  dining-room,  packing  it  with  Indians 
and  demanding  the  keys. 

23 


354  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  No/*  was  Margaret's  firm  but  gentle  refusal,  hushing 
back  the  deep  alarm  that  now  shook  her  palpitating 
bosom. 

"  Key,  storehouse,  powder !  "  persisted  Piopiomoxmox. 

Not  in  vain  had  McGillivray's  granddaughter  spent  all 
her  life  in  forts  and  camps,  travelling  with  brigades  of 
horse  and  canoe  from  the  Saskatchewan  to  Athabasca. 
By  inheritance  she  knew  the  Indian,  she  was  part  Indian 
herself,  and  when,  with  the  mien  of  McGillivray  who  had 
ruled  the  nations,  she  lifted  her  fair  hand  and  waved  him 
out,  Piopiomoxmox,  startled,  arose. 

Margaret's  chin  lifted,  her  eye  blazed,  fire  seemed  to 
fly  along  her  finger,  pointing  to  the  door.  Once  before 
Piopiomoxmox  had  seen  that  look  on  a  face  at  Walla 
Walla,  when  a  chief  factor  stood  with  a  lifted  match  above 
a  keg  of  gunpowder.  The  terror  of  itxame  over  him  now ; 
he  shook,  he  ran,  and  his  followers  with  him,  fluttering 
their  blankets,  through  the  gate,  as  if  a  very  devil  were 
behind  about  to  blow  up  the  fort. 

"  Fly,  lock  the  gates !  "  hoarsely  Margaret  whispered  to 
John  McBean,  a  boy  of  sixteen,  and  the  next  moment 
sank,  fainting,  like  any  other  woman,  at  the  feet  of 
Sinclair's  little  daughter,  Maria. 

"  I  wonder  why  they  ran,"  she  inquired  on  recovery, 
finding  Dr.  McKay  bending  over  her.  He  came  every 
day  now,  an  acknowledged  lover.  Noting  the  Indians, 
he  had  ridden  in,  with  a  ring  for  Margaret's  finger. 

With  sensibilities  keyed  to  the  supernatural,  the  girl 
listened.  "  Doctor..  I  hear  a  strange  noise  at  the  Indian 
camp.  What  can  it  be?  " 

"  'Tis  nothing,  Miss  Margaret,  don't  be  alarmed."  He 
laughed  to  reassure  her,  but  inwardly  disturbed  himself, 
soon  rode  on  toward  the  Indians. 

"  Hasten.  Get  away,"  faithful  old  Sticcas,  a  Cayuse 
sub-chief  met  him  beyond  the  gates  with  a  warning. 
"  They  are  going  to  burn  Hontimini  because  you  assisted 
at  the  council." 

"  I  don't  like  that  noise,"  again  spoke  Margaret  to 
Sinclair's  daughter.  "  I  wonder  what  the  Indians  are 
doing." 


She  lifted  her  fair  hand  and  her  eye  blazed  as  she  pointed 
to  the  door." 


MARGARET  OF  WALLA  WALLA   355 

"  I  '11  go  and  see,"  answered  the  boy.  Slipping  on  his 
moccasins,  John  stole  out. 

"  It  is  the  scalp  dance  and  Piopiomoxmox  is  dancing," 
he  brought  back  report.  "  Somebody  has  been  killed." 

Quickly  every  door  was  barricaded  and  the  gates  double- 
locked.  Scarce  could  trembling  hands  turn  the  key  when 
Sinclair  came  home  from  a  three  weeks'  absence,  taking 
his  wife  down  to  Vancouver. 

"  We  must  abandon  the  fort  at  once,"  he  said.  "  I 
received  a  warning  at  the  Dalles."  With  him  an  alarmed 
Indian  agent  had  hurried  up  to  quiet  Piopiomoxmox. 

"  You  are  too  late,"  the  chief  replied.  "  There  is  no 
treaty.  Take  back  your  goods  and  gold.  Leave  us  our 
country." 

With  blanched  cheeks  the  agent  came  into  the  fort.  At 
that  moment,  too,  in  fear  of  his  life  the  Hudson  Bay 
trader  from  Fort  Boise  knocked  exhausted  at  the  wooden 
gate  of  Walla  Walla. 

Sinking  into  the  nearest  seat,  "  Fort  Hall  is  deserted," 
he  announced.  "  The  hostiles  are  combining  at  the  call 
of  Kamiakin." 

Well  they  knew  the  old  adobe  Fort  Walla  Walla  was  a 
slender  barricade  against  the  inflamed  tribes. 

"  Let  us  dump  all  ammunition  into  the  river  and  flee," 
said  the  agent. 

In  sight  of  Indian  fires  under  the  stars  at  midnight 
they  sank  a  thousand  pounds  of  powder  and  lead  to  the 
bottom  of  the  Columbia,  and  with  muffled  oars  paddled 
quickly  away,  abandoning  the  fort  to  its  fate.  Out  on  the 
prairie  rose  the  flames  of  Hontimini.  Margaret's  heart 
cried  out  in  anguish,  but  Sinclair  would  not  tarry. 

"  He  is  probably  dead  by  this  time.  Come,  we  must 
save  ourselves."  ,l 


356  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 


XIII 

FLEEING  TO   THE   FORTS 

F  F  the  white  woman  wishes  to  save  her  life  and  that 
j  of  her  children,  she  had  better  set  out  for  the 

-•>-  settlements  immediately.    Bad  ones  coming." 

Everywhere  through  the  Puget  Sound  districts  faith 
ful  squaws  warned  and  wailed  over  the  woes  of  their 
situation.  They  were  the  newspapers,  the  fire  bells,  the 
alarm  clocks,  signalling  at  kitchen  doors.  Quick  from 
the  pastures  pioneer  families  caught  their  horses,  and 
with  children  hurriedly  mounted  set  out  on  the  long, 
uncertain  ride  to  a  neighboring  blockhouse.  Often  before 
they  were  fairly  out  of  sight,  behind  them  arose  the  red 
glare  of  grain  stacks  and  cabins.  Friendly  Indians 
begged  for  the  lives  of  friends.  "  I  work  for  this  Boston 
man.  He  no  hurt  us.  He  lent  me  fifty  grain-sacks  for 
my  wheat." 

"  Slice,  slice,  slice"  sounded  through  all  the  woods, 
Indians  driving  stock  of  the  fleeing  settlers,  everywhere 
crossing  the  trails  of  horses  and  cattle  going  to  the 
forts. 

"  Hurry  oop  tare !  "  Captain  van  Bokkelen  urged  fat- 
legged,  fleeing  little  children  through  the  bushes. 

Van  Bokkelen's  recollections  as  a  child  included  the 
visit  of  Lafayette  to  the  house  of  his  grandmother,  when 
he  presented  her  with  a  golden  anchor  in  commemoration 
of  her  husband's  services  in  piloting  the  French  fleet,  with 
Lafayette  himself  on  board,  into  New  York  harbor  in  the 
days  of  the  Revolution.  Van  Bokkelen's  other  grand 
father,  physician  to  the  King  of  Holland,  on  the  entrance 
of  Napoleon  and  the  flight  of  the  King  escaped  to  New 
York,  where  he  became  one  of  the  first  physicians  in  the 
old  Bowery.  Taking  advantage  of  his  Dutch  relation 
ships,  during  the  war  of  1812  Van  Bokkelen's  father 


FLEEING   TO    THE    FORTS  357 

made  a  hazardous  voyage  to  Japan,  securing  a  cargo  of 
saltpetre  for  the  United  States  Government. 

Fort  Nisqually,  protected  by  its  bullet-proof  fence  and 
shot-towers,  armed  with  venerable  six-pounders,  the 
strongest  refuge  in  the  country,  was  the  scene  of  wild 
excitement.  Hurriedly  Dr.  Tolmie  sent  out  carts  to  haul 
in  the  neighboring  settlers  to  safety.  Qualchin,  the  son 
of  Owhi,  chief  of  the  Klikitats  and  a  close  friend  of 
Leschi,  had  led  three  hundred  warriors  west  of  the  moun 
tains.  Very  angry  was  the  Doctor  at  Dean,  an  English 
man  in  charge  of  the  sheep,  and  at  the  other  shepherds 
who  left  their  flocks  on  the  hills  without  guard,  piling 
bag  and  baggage  into  the  fort. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  about  those  sheep?" 
roared  the  Doctor. 

"  McAllister  is  dead,  and  Moses,  Miles,  and  Council, 
and  now  the  White  River  m-m-massacre  —  '  stuttered 
the  timid  old  man.  Not  strong,  new  to  the  country,  and 
unable  to  speak  the  Indian  tongue,  Dean  was  thoroughly 
frightened. 

"  Lord,  man,  don't  you  know  it 's  not  us  the  In 
dians  are  mad  at,  but  the  Americans?"  exclaimed  Dr. 
Tolmie  in  his  perplexity. 

"  Well,  I  'm  not  g-g-going  to  risk  my  head  in  any 
c-case,"  stuttered  the  old  Englishman. 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  Indians.  I  will  go,"  volun 
teered  young  Huggins,  the  clerk  of  Nisqually.  Letitia 
Work's  heart  beat  a  sudden  tattoo. 

The  Doctor's  countenance  cleared  like  sunlight  out  of 
a  storm  cloud. 

"  Thank  you,  my  boy,  I  give  you  complete  authority 
to  do  whatever  you  consider  best,"  and  out  into  the  pas 
tures  went  the  lad  from  London,  with  Letitia  trembling 
at  his  hardihood  and  equally  admiring  his  daring. 

"  Choose  whom  you  will  for  your  helpers,"  were  the 
Doctor's  orders,  and  so,  with  English,  Scotch,  Irish, 
French  Canadians,  Kanakas,  one  negro  and  one  Ameri 
can,  Edward  Huggins  moved  out  to  superintend  the 
sheep.  Every  week  he  rode  round  the  stations,  thirty  or 
forty  miles,  meeting  not  a  soul  but  his  own  men  or  now 


358  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

and  then  a  party  of  hard  scouting  volunteers  out  for 
Indians. 

"  How  the  devil  is  it  that  you  can  ride  about  these 
plains  and  not  lose' your  scalp,  when  if  one  of  us  should 
attempt  it  he  would  certainly  be  killed?"  they  cried. 
No  answer  could  satisfy  them. 

"Damned  Englishman!  Hudson  Bay  robber!"  jin 
gled  in  his  ears  as  he  galloped  away  on  his  gray  gelding, 
one  of  Quieinuth's  horses. 

And  still,  Indians  were  everywhere,  watching,  watch 
ing  even  Huggins  riding  by.  They  did  not  molest,  and 
he  —  did  not  see  them.  But  ammunition  must  be  had. 
Fort  Nisqually  had  none. 

"  Blood  is  thicker  than  water,  Let  us  apply  to  Doug 
las,"  and  at  the  gate  of  Fort  Victoria  knocked  an  Ameri 
can  delegation. 

"  I  most  cordially  acknowledge  the  moral  obligation 
which  binds  Christian  and  civilized  nations,"  said  Doug 
las.  "  We  are,  I  confess  with  sorrow,  badly  prepared 
for  war,  there  being  at  this  moment  but  one  hundred 
stands  of  arms  in  this  colony." 

But  half  of  what  he  had,  all  he  could  spare,  Douglas 
sold  them  —  fifty  stands  of  arms,  ten  barrels  of  gun 
powder,  and  a  large  supply  of  ball  went  out  of  Victoria 
harbor.  Soon  after  followed  the  new  steamer  "  Otter," 
cruising  the  whole  length  of  Puget  Sound,  to  show  the 
Indians  that  in  a  war  against  the  whites  they  could  not 
expect  Hudson  Bay  sympathy. 


XIV 

A   COURIER   OF  THE   WEST 

A  LL  the  country  watched  and  waited  for  the  Govern- 
/\    ment   express    rider   who    had    left    at    the   first 
JLjL  outbreak  with  despatches  for  Governor  Stevens 
in  the  Blackfoot  country.     When  Secretary  Mason  de 
manded,    "Who   will   warn   the   Governor?     Who   will 


A    COURIER    OF    THE    WEST  '359 

volunteer?  "  "  I  will,"  sang  out  William  Henry  Pearson, 
a  little  man  of  steel,  who,  reckless  of  cold,  hunger,  and 
fatigue,  day  after  day,  along  dim  and  lonely  trails,  could 
gallop  like  a  centaur  through  the  heart  of  the  Indian 
country. 

"  As  well  try  to  run  the  gantlet  of  a  nest  of  hornets !  " 
cried  the  incredulous.  "  He  can  never  get  through." 

Fort  Dalles  started  him  out,  fresh  and  well  mounted, 
to  pass  alone  through  a  thousand  miles  of  hostile  territory. 
Guided  by  sun,  moon,  and  stars,  up  the  Columbia,  past 
Celilo,  past  Yakimas,  Des  Chutes,  and  Palouses,  and  into 
Walla  Walla's  vale,  a  day  and  a  night  found  him  at  Billy 
McKay's  ranch  at  Hontimini.  Billy  had  gone  with  the 
ring  to  Margaret. 

Hunting  up  a  breakfast  in  that  kitchen  that  Margaret 
was  never  to  rule,  Pearson  lassoed  one  of  McKay's 
splendid  horses,  and  cantering  from  a  clump  of  willows, 
saw  Indians  racing  on  his  trail. 

"Whup  si-ah  si-ah-poo!  Whup  si-ah!"  ("Kill  the 
white  man !  Kill  the  white !  ") 

With  whip  and  spur  away  he  flew,  climbing  the  hills 
from  Hontimini.  Behind,  behind,  the  red  men  chased, 
with  clouds  of  dust  and  ever  fainter  yells,  until  at  last  they 
gave  over,  and  returned  to  loot  and  burn  Hontimini. 

The  famous  Blackfoot  council  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Judith  River,  six  hundred  miles  away,  in  Montana,  was 
over.  Since  time  immemorial  Flatheads  and  Blackfeet 
had  fought  and  slain  each  other  in  the  buffalo  valleys  of 
the  Missouri,  but  now  Governor  Stevens  had  made  an 
everlasting  peace.  The  tribes  were  rejoicing.  A  new  and 
happier  era  had  come  —  the  survey  of  a  Northern  Pacific 
railroad  through  the  Blackfoot  lands  had  ended  the  old 
wars  forever.  And  one  of  the  skilled  interpreters  was 
James  Bird,  the  "Jemmy  Jock,"  of  Hudson  Bay! 

The  deed  that  marked  a  new  era  in  Blackfoot  history 
was  done,  the  home  start  was  beginning,  when  in  the  fall 
ing  twilight  on  an  October  night  a  lone  horseman  was 
seen  creeping,  staggering,  tottering  toward  camp.  All 
rushed  out  and  lifted  from  the  horse  the  express  rider, 
too  weak  to  dismount,  haggard,  emaciated,  with  clothes 


360  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

frozen  and  waving  chestnut  hair  flying  in  wild  disorder. 
Only  strength  was  left  to  gasp,  "  Kamiakin."  A  startling 
tale  of  war  the  official  despatches  told,  that  the  Governor's 
only  safety  lay  in  returning  down  the  Missouri  River,  and 
by  way  of  New  York  and  the  Isthmus  of  Panama. 

"  I  '11  never  do  it.  I  '11  go  direct,"  cried  the  fearless 
Governor,  while  his  attendants  chafed  the  courier's  hands 
and  warmed  and  fed  him  back  to  life. 

With  a  few  horsemen  as  daring  as  himself  Governor 
Stevens  started.  In  eight  days  Hell  Gate  was  reached, 
the  old  transmontane  trail  to  the  Flathead  countries. 

Looking  Glass  was  there,  Three  Feathers,  and  Spotted 
Eagle,  with  their  Nez  Perce  retinue,  cantering  along  on 
the  way  home  from  the  Blackfoot  council. 

"War?"  Eagerly  they  listened,  reining  up  around 
the  Governor.  "  We  go  with  you,  share  your  clanger," 
cried  Looking  Glass  himself.  "  Come  to  our  country. 
Our  young  men  take  you  to  the  Dalles,  protect  you  with 
their  lives." 

Rapidly  pushing  over  the  mountains  deep  with  snow, 
suddenly  the  Governor's  retinue,  rifles  in  hand,  lined  up 
at  a  Cceur  d'Alene  village. 

"  Friends  or  enemies  ?    Peace  or  war  ?  " 

"  Peace,"  cried  the  startled  Cceur  d'Alenes,  "  peace !  " 
But  Kamiakin's  emissaries  had  just  departed. 

"  Cut  him  off,"  Kamiakin  had  bidden  them,  "  the  arch 
enemy  of  our  country." 

"  He  shall  never  reach  the  Dalles,"  Piopiomoxmox's 
word  had  gone  over  the  Indian  world.  "  I  myself  will 
take  the  Governor's  scalp." 

Before  the  Spokanes  dreamed  of  their  presence  the 
same  horsemen  thundered  into  Spokane. 

"  Peace  or  war  ?  " 

"  Peace,  peace !  "  cried  Garry,  recognizing  the  Gov 
ernor.  '  Three  hours  ago  we  heard  you  were  fleeing 
away  down  the  Missouri." 

Then  followed  what  Stevens  called  the  stormiest  council 
in  all  his  Indian  experience.  With  the  aid  of  McDonald 
of  Colville  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  refute  the  vagaries 
of  Kamiakin.  Having  measurably  restored  confidence, 


A    COURIER    OF    THE    WEST  361 

over  the  wintry  hills  the  Stevens  Guards  galloped  on  to 
the  Nez  Perces  at  Lapwai. 

"  The  whole  Walla  Walla  valley  is  blocked,"  was  the 
word  at  Lapwai. 

"  Let  one  hundred  and  fifty  of  your  young  men  accom 
pany  me,"  suggested  the  Governor;  but  before  a  start 
could  be  made  in  rushed  a  courier  with  the  latest  bulletin. 

"Four  hundred  Oregon  volunteers  have  fought  the 
Walla  Wallas,  and  Piopiomoxmox  is  dead." 

The  most  determined  chief  in  all  Oregon  had  fallen 
fighting  for  his  country.  There  was  silence,  and  a  wail. 
For  one  moment  a  stifled  war  cry  kindled  Nez  Perce 
hearts,  but  the  winning  Governor  Stevens,  assisted  by  the 
wise  and  shrewd  Lawyer,  happily  enlisted  them  under  the 
flag  of  the  United  States.  Now,  as  a  guard  of  honor 
the  Nez  Perces  marched,  blanketed  braves  with  eagle 
plumes,  "  the  handsomest  Indians  ever  seen  at  Walla 
Walla,"  said  the  Oregon  volunteers,  meeting  them  with 
huzzas,  salutes,  and  the  honors  of  war.  With  actual 
joy  the  Oregonians  embraced  their  dusky  allies,  ce 
menting  a  friendship  begun  in  the  days  of  Lewis  and 
Clark. 

"  Yes,  I  am  saved  by  these  good  Nez  Perces  and  by 
you,  gentlemen,  thanks  to  the  noble  Governor  of  Oregon," 
said  Stevens  with  emotion  to  the  tattered  little  army,  that, 
scantily  clad  and  worse  fed,  in  the  midst  of  winter  had 
routed  a  superior  force  and  opened  the  road. 

"  Ha!  did  you  get  in  with  your  hair  safe?  "  was  the 
joyful  greeting  at  the  Dalles  where  the  whole  settlement 
had  been  watching  for  his  cavalcade.  "  His  Majesty 
Kamiakin  had  not  counted  on  Governor  Curry  and  the 
Oregon  volunteers." 

But  Curry  himself  was  away,  wrestling  with  John  in 
the  Sugar  Pine  Groves. 

It  was  a  morning  in  January,  1856,  when  cheers  and 
cannon  called  Margaret  Stevens  to  her  window  inside 
the  stockade  at  Olympia.  Teek-Seets,  Ruffled  Hair,  or 
Crumpled  Hair,  as  the  Indians  called  him,  was  more 
ruffled  than  ever,  on  reaching  his  capital,  to  find  the 
country  depopulated  and  the  people  in  blockhouses,  as 


362  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

men  were  wont  to  gather  in  castles  in  the  stormy  days 
of  old.  Home-made  flags  waved  over  the  forts  of  Puget 
Sound,  business  was  suspended.  The  palisade  and  the 
watch-tower  told  their  own  story  of  war  for  the  right  of 
eminent  domain. 

"  Several  times  they  brought  circumstantial  reports  of 
your  death,"  laughed  and  cried  Margaret  Stevens  all  at 
once,  while  the  children  clung  to  their  soldier-father's 
skirts.  "  But  I  never  believed.  Still  more  did  I  scout 
the  idea  of  your  retreating  back  down  the  Missouri  and 
coming  by  sea !  I  knew  that  was  n't  your  way." 

In  two  years  Washington's  hero-governor  had  treated 
with  thirty  thousand  Indians,  ending  tribal  wars  and 
opening  up  to  railroads  and  settlement  a  greater  area 
than  any  other  one  State  executive  in  American  history. 
He  had  surveyed  a  road  longer  than  the  longest  of  the 
Romans,  following  the  trail  of  Lewis  and  Clark,  and 
now  stood  ready  overseas  to  clasp  commercial  hands 
with  that  Asia  toward  which  the  white  man  so  long  had 
travelled. 

And  Tecumseh-Kamiakin,  opposing,  announced,  "  We 
will  fight  him  with  thousands,  and  if  vanquished,  those 
of  us  that  are  left  will  kill  our  women  and  children  and 
perish  ourselves !  " 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  Kamaikin,  provided  he  will 
come  in  and  submit  himself  unconditionally  to  the  mercy 
and  justice  of  the  United  States,"  Governor  Stevens  re 
turned  answer. 

The  red  men  that  for  ages  had  fought  and  slain  each 
other,  banded  now  against  the  white. 


CATHERINE   MAYNARD  363 


XV 

•  CATHERINE   MAYNARD 

"  T  7  CH-I-DAH!  uch-i-dah!  "  ("  Wonderful !  won- 
/  /  derfull")  Chief  Seattle  heard  that  Teek- 
^-'  sects,  the  Ruffled  Hair,  had  returned  in  safety 
through  the  hostile  country. 

"  Ik-tah  6-coke?  ik-tah  6-cokc?"  ("What  is  that? 
what  is  that?")  Seattle  and  all  his  people  heard  the 
sound  of  cannon.  Kitsap  would  have  said  it  was  nothing, 
but  Kitsap  was  not  there. 

Kitsap's  band  had  been  haunting  the  peninsula  opposite 
Port  Madison,  the  reservation  of  Seattle,  but  now  he  was 
gone  with  Kanasket,  the  War  chief.  It  looked  suspicious, 
and  in  fact  Chief  Seattle  had  reasons  of  his  own  for 
knowing  there  was  trouble  somewhere.  And  that  cannon ! 
It  was  January,  and  only  six  days  after  the  return  of 
Governor  Stevens,  who  had  now  gone  down  the  Sound 
to  arrange  for  defences  and  get  all  the  friendly  Indians 
on  to  reservations. 

"  For  Indians  are  never  so  disposed  to  mischief  as 
when  scattered,"  said  the  Governor.  Four  thousand 
Indians  on  the  east  shore  of  Puget  Sound  were  being 
moved  to  adjacent  islands  and  fed  at  public  expense. 

"  Leschi,  Leschi  himself  came  in  the  night,  with  forty 
warriors,  to  Fox  Island  opposite  Steilacoom  to  induce 
our  friendly  Indians  to  join  the  hostiles,"  declared  the 
people. 

Seattle,  the  settlement,  caught  its  breath  when  it 
heard  of  such  reckless  daring,  "  right  under  the  guns 
of  Steilacoom." 

"  Without  doubt  Leschi  is  at  the  bottom  of  all  this 
disturbance,"  they  said.  His  eloquence  was  exagger 
ated,  and  his  influence.  Leschi,  once  horse  guard  at 


364  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Nisqually,    was    believed    to    be    travelling    everywhere, 
stirring  up  trouble,  trouble. 

"  But  Dr.  Tdlmie  does  not  fear  him,"  interposed  the 
Governor. 

Very  well,  they  had  their  opinion  of  Dr.  Tolmie,  or 
any  man  that  excused  such  a  "  deevil  incarnate." 

Very  willingly  Chief  Seattle  and  his  Indians  had  gone 
to  their  "  Ol-e  Man  House,"  the  great  rancherie  of  the 
reservation,  with  carved  thunder  birds  on  the  corner 
posts  and  a  roof  to  cover  a  village.  Big  kettles  of  boil 
ing  clams  hung  over  the  fires,  and  kitchen  middens  of 
shells  stretched  far  out  on  the  beach  into  the  water, 
where  Seattle's  fathers  and  fathers'  fathers,  back  into 
unknown  days,  had  feasted  on  clams  in  this  selfsame 
island  of  Puget  Sound.  This  defection  of  Kitsap  grieved 
Seattle,  for  Kitsap's  fathers  and  his  had  been  alternate 
chiefs  in  this  ancestral  house  of  cedar.  Together  they 
had  agreed  to  take  up  civilization  and  to  put  a  stop  to 
sacrifices  on  their  altars.  The  warm  blood  of  little  chil 
dren  without  number  and  of  horses,  dogs,  and  slaves 
had  for  ages  been  spilled  on  the  graves  of  their  chiefs, 
after  the  same  fashion  as  in  the  days  of  Tamerlane 
their  kinsman,  and  of  Monteznma  the  Aztec. 

But  now  Chief  Seattle  decided,  "  Governor  Stevens 
not  want  it,  Colonel  Simmons  not  want  it,  Great  Father 
at  Washington  not  want  it.  It  must  stop."  And  Kitsap 
had  agreed. 

Princess  Angeline,  a  buxom  widow,  was  a  washer 
woman  among  the  whites,  and  now  that  Dr.  Maynard 
and  his  wife  had  come  to  take  charge  of  the  reservation, 
Angeline  was  advancing  faster  than  ever  in  civilized  ways. 
She  could  bake  bread,  after  a  fashion,  and  sweep.  And 
her  father,  in  his  blanket  toga  and  peaked  hat,  listened 
to  her  chatter,  while  the  wind  whistling  through  his  open 
halls  lifted  his  gray  locks  and  blew  smoke  from  his  fire. 

'  Yes,  go,"  said  Seattle.     "  Tell  the  white  men.     Take 

Maynard    squaw."      For    Seattle    knew    something    he 

thought  the  white  men  ought  to  know.    "  Hyas  clatawa!  " 

("Hurry  and  go!") 

The  night  grew  dark.     Kitsap's  daughter  was  in  the 


CATHERINE    MAYNARD  365 

canoe  and  Angeline  and  five  others,  with  one  old  man  to 
pilot.  The  klootchmen  paddled  the  boat,  hiding  Mrs. 
Maynard  down  under  the  mats  when  an  Indian  bark 
came  drifting  by. 

"  Going  to  Seattle  with  clams,"  the  squaws  answered 
a  hail. 

Everywhere  were  those  barks,  like  logs  on  the  water, 
with  warriors  lying  down  in  the  bottom,  ready  to  rise 
and  whack  the  head  off  a  lone  white  man  venturing  too 
far  from  land.  It  was  fifteen  miles  to  Seattle,  and  the 
heavy  night  hung  dark  and  damp  and  misty,  with  a 
threatening  storm. 

"  Hail  the  watch-boy,  Catherine,"  Dr.  Maynard  had 
whispered  as  his  wife  departed.  "  His  name  is  John. 
He  will  be  standing  on  the  upper  deck." 

It  was  already  dark  when  they  set  out,  and  the  Indians 
were  drowsing  beside  the  fires.  It  was  twelve  o'clock 
when  Catherine  Maynard  and  Angeline  drew  up  under 
the  great  black  hulk  of  the  "  Decatur,"  and  Catherine 
gave  a  signal  that  started  the  supernatural  stillness  of 
the  night.  "John!" 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  quick  came  the  watchman,  straining  his 
ears  from  the  battleship. 

But  other  ears  were  awake  when  Catherine  Maynard 
answered,  "  An  express  from  the  Indian  Department." 

In  an  instant  Captain  Gansevoort  was  at  the  rail. 
Unknown  to  any,  he,  too,  was  watching,  for  the  night 
had  been  full  of  warnings. 

1  Take  the  woman  on  board,"  came  his  quick  com 
mand,  surprising  the  watchman,  who  had  supposed 
himself  alone. 

"  No,  let  me  climb  up  the  steps,"  said  Catherine;  "but 
take  these  squaws  and  give  them  something  to  eat.  The 
poor  things  are  nearly  drowned  and  perished." 

"  Captain,  I  must  go  back  in  an  hour,"  she  added, 
handing  the  papers.  Clapping  them  into  his  bosom, 
politely  he  showed  her  to  his  own  stateroom,  where 
Mrs.  Elaine,  the  minister's  wife  and  the  first  teacher 
of  Seattle,  lay  with  a  month-old  infant  on  her  bosom. 
For  a  moment  the  women  laughed  and  cried  together. 


366  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  Half  Seattle  is  here,"  said  the  minister's  wife. 
"  Before  dark  Captain  Gansevoort  sent  word  ashore  for 
the  women  and  children  all  to  sleep  in  the  blockhouse, 
but  a  few  of  us  were  brought  on  shipboard  for  greater 
security.  The  men  and  marines  are  on  guard." 

"  Had  he  a  warning?"  gasped  Catherine,  who  had 
fancied  her  own  the  only  intimation  of  impending 
disaster. 

"  Warnings  for  a  week,  Mrs.  Maynard.  No  one  knows 
how  many  hints  are  hidden  in  the  Captain's  bosom.  He 
has  resolved  himself  into  a  guardian  angel  in  this  time 
of  trouble.  Did  you  meet  Governor  Stevens?" 

"Meet  him?    No.    Where?" 

"  He  left  here  shortly  before  dark,  urging  Captain 
Gansevoort  to  accompany  him  in  the  "  Active  "  on  a  trip 
down  the  Sound.  He  was  looking  for  Northern  Indians. 
They  have  threatened  —  the  Haidas  - 

"  Madame,  it  is  one  o'clock."  Captain  Gansevoort  was 
at  the  door. 

Carefully  down  the  swaying  stairway  into  her  canoe 
stepped  Catherine,  huddling  close  to  the  klootchmen, 
whose  palpitating  heart-beats  she  could  hear  through  the 
silence. 

"  God  bless  you,  Madame !  good-night,"  said  the  Cap 
tain.  "  None  but  a  brave  woman  could  do  what  you 
have  done."  For  word  of  the  long  meditated  attack  on 
Seattle  she  and  Angeline  had  brought  in  that  midnight 
journey  across  the  black  water  of  Puget  Sound.  But 
Catherine's  eye  glanced  wildly  now,  down  the  northern 
stretch,  for  Haidas. 

Six  hours  it  took  to  beat  back  on  the  wintry  sea. 
Angeline's  red  shawl  was  adrip  with  the  spray,  and  as 
they  landed,  the  rain  burst  in  a  gale  of  fury. 

That  morning  Governor  Stevens  and  staff  and  Sur 
veyor  General  Tilton,  in  the  "  Active,"  called,  inviting 
Chief  Seattle,  Dr.  Maynard,  and  his  pallid  wife  to  a 
turkey  breakfast,  served  on  board. 

"  Boston  man  siwash !  "  muttered  Seattle,  gazing  as 
tonished  at  the  Chinese  cook,  "  Boston  Indian !  "  Like 
one  to  the  manner  born  Seattle  handled  knife,  fork,  and 


CATHERINE    MAYNARD  367 

napkin,  furtively  imitating  every  move  of  the  Governor. 
"  Ah-ha!  Maynard  squaw  carry  word!"  The  chief 
laughed,  an  almost  unheard-of  act  for  solemn  Seattle. 

"  You,  Catherine  ?  "  Colonel  Simmons  could  scarce 
believe  his  ears  that  "  the  timid  little  sister  "  had  actually 
crossed  the  stormy  Sound  with  an  Indian  crew  on  a 
winter  night  to  warn  the  settlers  of  Seattle.  He  was 
almost  inclined  to  upbraid  Dr.  Maynard  for  permitting  it. 

"  It 's  a  wonder  you  were  n't  overhauled  by  some  of 
those  prowling  canoes,  Catherine." 

"  They  were,  and  being  women,  escaped.  These  very 
patrols  point  to  an  attack,"  interposed  Dr.  Maynard. 

"  Oh,  no,  no  attack,"  laughed  the  Governor.  "  My 
dear  Doctor,  you  and  your  brave  wife  have  too  much 
confidence  in  the  prattle  of  these  inoffensive  fish  Indians. 
I  have  just  returned  from  the  countries  of  the  Nez  Perces 
and  Cceur  d'Alenes;  I  have  visited  many  tribes,  going 
and  coming,  and,  I  tell  you,  there  are  not  fifty  hostiles 
now  in  the  territory.  San  Francisco  or  New  York  will 
be  as  soon  attacked  as  this  town  of  Seattle.  Our  danger 
lies  outside,  beyond,  and  from  the  North." 

Before  he  was  out  of  hearing  guns  sounded  for  battle. 

"  Must  be  the  '  Decatur's  '  morning  salute,"  thought 
the  Governor,  not  pausing  on  his  tour  down  the  Sound 
inspecting  the  reservations  and  lower  waters  of  the  inlet, 
wherever  the  wild  northmen  might  alight  from  their 
ocean  canoes. 

"Uch-i-dah!  uch-i-dah!"  (" Wonderful!  wonderful!") 
Seattle  had  been  murmuring  over  the  safe  return  of 
Teek-seets,  the  Ruffled  Hair,  through  the  hostile  country. 
But  now  it  was,  "  Ik-tah  6-coke?  ik-tah  6-coke? " 
("What  is  that?  what  is  that?")  at  the  sound  of  the 
cannon. 

All  day  on  the  beach,  with  his  hands  in  his  hair,  sat 
Seattle,  talking,  sobbing,  and  moaning  to  Dr.  Maynard, 
"  My  son,  my  son,  they  will  all  be  killed." 


368  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 


XVI 

THE   SIEGE   OF   SEATTLE 

A  early  as  September  Chief  Seattle's  people  had 
rushed  around  in  an  excited  manner,  warning 
everybody  of  a  plot  to  attack  Seattle.  Some 
believed,  some  doubted,  some  abandoned  their  homes  and 
fled  in  canoes  down  the  rivers  to  the  village.  A  few 
old  rifles,  a  few  rusty  fowling-pieces  alone  bestead  them 
on  this  lonely  north  shore. 

From  house  to  house  the  women  were  praying  after 
noons,  —  they  dared  not  meet  at  night,  —  when,  lo !  over 
the  shining  October  waters  a  gallant  man-of-war  was 
seen  rounding  Alki  Point. 

"  A  sloop !  a  sloop  has  come  to  our  defence !  Thank 
God  for  the  coming  of  the  '  Decatur  ' !  " 

Hewn  timbers  and  lumber  were  being  dragged  up  by 
oxen  from  the  beach  to  build  a  blockhouse  when  the 
"  Decatur  "  came  in.  Through  the  long  autumn  days 
men  were  shingling  the  roof  and  hammering  at  the 
bastions. 

"  Ho !  ho !  "  scoffed  the  idle.  "  A  fort !  a  fort !  Help 
to  build  it?  Not  I.  Ships  in  the  harbor  all  fol-de-rol. 
Indians  attack,  indeed !  " 

"  Indeed !  "  cried  indignant  Louisa  Denny.  "  Some 
laughed  when  Noah  built  the  ark." 

Every  woman  welcomed  the  fort,  whither  they  fled 
barefooted  in  their  night  clothes  in  the  frosty  moonlight, 
startled  by  shots  that  sent  chill  shudders  to  their  hearts. 
Then  came  Curly,  —  tall,  hawk-nosed,  eagle-eyed,  an 
Indian  who  often  had  worked  at  Yesler's  sawmill.  To 
Yesler  he  came,  lingering,  hesitating. 

"Well,  Curly,  what  is  it?" 

"  Out  in  my  canoe,  fishing,  I  meet  old  squaw  going  to 
Ol-e-Man  House.  Squaw  say  Klikitats  be  here." 


THE    SIEGE   OF    SEATTLE  369 

To  discover  if  this  last  report  were  true,  Captain 
Gansevoort  sent  trusty  Yoke  Yakeman  with  secret  orders 
to  reconnoitre.  Back  came  the  messenger  with  a  shattered 
arm  and  the  breathless  whisper :  "  Klikitats  have  come. 
Lake  Indians  crossing  them  in  canoes  for  two  days." 

That  was  the  night  when  Catherine  Maynard  and 
Angeline  were  crossing  the  Sound.  It  was  eight  o'clock 
on  shore  at  Seattle.  Only  now  and  then  the  bark  of  a 
dog  disturbed  the  listening  silence.  Two  Indians  closely 
wrapped  in  blankets  sauntered  by  the  watchers  from  the 
ship  "  Decatur." 

"  Your  name  ?  Your  business  ?  "  demanded  Lieutenant 
Phelps  in  Chinook. 

"  Lake  tillicum,  on  a  visit  to  Curly." 

Lieutenant  Phelps  scrutinized  their  faces.  They  were 
strangers. 

"  Go  to  your  camp.  Keep  within  bounds,  or  you  will 
be  shot." 

With  a  grunt  the  high  chiefs  of  Kamiakin's  army 
passed  unmolested  into  the  camp  of  friendly  Indians  in 
the  centre  of  Seattle.  It  was  nine  o'clock  on  shore  at 
Seattle.  Owl-hoots  and  responsive  hoots  floated  like 
ghosts  of  sounds  across  the  slumbering  hollows. 

"  I  believe  that  is  the  enemy,"  said  Phelps.  "  Go, 
Curly,  and  see  if  a  foe  is  near." 

"  No  Indian  in  wood.  No  attack  to-night,  —  must 
sleep,"  said  Curly,  returning  from  a  brief  reconnaissance. 

Lieutenant  Phelps  noticed  an  unusual  look  on  Curly's 
face.  What  had  he  learned  in  that  tramp  in  the  woods? 
Was  he  to  be  trusted? 

Out  jn  the  harbor  barely  had  Princess  Angeline  and 
Mrs.  Maynard  pulled  away  from  the  "  Decatur  "  at  one 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  a  messenger  from  Lieu 
tenant  Phelps  clambered  up  the  black  hulk  to  Captain 
Gansevoort. 

"  Indians  appear  to  be  approaching,  in  three  bodies, 
from  three  directions,  according  to  the  signals." 

In  a  lower  story  of  the  blockhouse  on  shore  the  marines 
were  on  guard,  while  above,  in  little  partitioned  rooms, 
slept  the  anxious  families  of  Seattle.  At  three  o'clock, 

24 


370  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

still  with  straining-  ears,  Lieutenant  Phelps  listened. 
"  Who-oo!  who-oo!  who-oo!  who-who-who!  "  nearer, 
nearer  and  more  distinct  came  the  night-bird  call  across 
the  vine-tangled  and  wooded  ravines.  At  four  o'clock, 
through  the  dark,  Lieutenant  Phelps  discovered  every 
friendly  Indian  abandoning  camp  and  hurriedly  bundling 
into  canoes  to  get  away. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  he  demanded  of  a  puffing  old  Indian 
dame  hurrying  by  with  her  bedclothes  on  her  back. 

"  Oh !  a  great  many  Klikitats  come  to  kill  all 
Americans." 

At  five  o'clock  Captain  Gansevoort  on  shipboard  was 
consulting  with  his  officers  over  the  many  reports  of 
this  puzzling  night.  "  But  they  will  not  attack  now ;  it  is 
too  near  morning,"  he  concluded,  with  an  expression  of 
relief.  "  At  seven  o'clock  order  the  men  aboard  to  eat 
and  rest." 

Over  his  coffee  in  the  cabin  Captain  Gansevoort  was 
reflecting  as  the  marines  came  in,  pale  and  sleepless. 
Lieutenant  Phelps,  anxious  still,  ran  to  the  upper  deck, 
and  with  a  glass  spied  over  the  town  of  Seattle.  The 
sun  was  just  rising  above  Rainier 's  brow.  But  what  is 
that?  A  suspicious  movement  caught  his  attention.  In 
one  minute  he  was  back  in  the  cabin. 

"  Captain,  I  see  Indians  looting  an  uninhabited  house 
in  a  little  cove  near  town." 

"  Go  ashore  and  fire  the  howitzer." 

Instantly  came  the  long  roll  and  the  tread  of  marines. 
Mrs.  Blaine,  with  her  baby  on  her  breast,  heard  the  tramp, 
tramp.  She  had  not  yet  risen. 

"  Come,  get  a  boat,  and  let  us  go  home,"  she  was 
urging  her  husband,  who  had  arrived  on  shipboard.  Too 
well  she  realized  how  the  Captain  had  been  kept  out  of 
his  snug  berth  on  account  of  her  and  the  baby.  "  We  are 
safe  in  the  daytime.  Already  the  people  will  be  leaving 
the  blockhouse  for  their  breakfast-tables  in  the  village." 

With  his  hand  on  the  door-knob,  demurring,  Mr. 
Blaine  heard  the  well-known  voice  of  Mr.  Yesler :  "  Cap 
tain,  a  klootchman  says  there  are  lots  of  Indians  back 
of  Tom  Pepper's  house." 


-THE    SIEGE    OF    SEATTLE  371 

Little  rest  Captain  Gansevoort  had  had  that  night,  but 
instantly  he  called,  "  John,  bring  me  my  boots." 

"  I  hate  to  make  trouble.  Never  mind,  Captain.  Just 
send  a  lieutenant  with  the  howitzer." 

"  No,  sir-ee.  Where  my  men  go,  I  go  too.  John, 
bring  me  my  boots." 

"  It  may  be  only  a  false  alarm,"  urged  Yesler,  reluctant 
still. 

"  I  don't  care,  Mr.  Yesler.  Better  have  twenty  false 
alarms  than  be  caught  napping  once." 

In  five  minutes  Captain  Gansevoort  was  out,  the  how 
itzer  was  in  position,  and  the  marines  of  the  "  Decatur  " 
were  swarming  back  on  to  the  wharf  they  had  just  left 
after  an  all-night  vigil. 

Through  its  open  door  Yesler's  old  cook-house  of 
weather-worn  roof  and  smoke-blackened  walls  sent  tan 
talizing  glimpses  of  comfort  to  the  breakfastless  marines 
who  from  their  untasted  plates  had  been  so  suddenly 
summoned. 

"  Drat  it  all !  No  attack,"  muttered  some.  "  All  a 
fake."  But  at  that  moment  a  shot  from  the  howitzer 
awoke  such  a  chorus  of  whoops  as  left  no  longer  room 
for  doubt. 

"Well,  by  George,  the  Indians  are  here!"  ejaculated 
a  scoffing  citizen  who  for  days  had  been  ridiculing 
Yesler,  Denny,  and  every  one  else  who  placed  confidence 
in  Indian  warnings.  In  his  night-shirt,  minus  pants,  and 
draped  in  Madame's  red  petticoat,  he  was  sprinting  for 
the  blockhouse.  In  a  moment  all  Seattle  was  fleeing; 
women  with  hair  streaming,  babes  in  arms,  hats  and 
bonnets  forgotten,  and  even  the  guns  standing  behind 
open  doors  where  breakfast  still  smoked  on  the  tables. 
From  behind  each  house  Indians  were  firing,  where  they 
had  stealthily  crept  up  in  the  darkness  before  daylight. 

"  This  way,  Louisa."  With  her  baby,  and  an  apron 
full  of  biscuits  hastily  snatched  from  the  oven,  David 
Denny,  gun  in  hand,  assisted  his  wife  through  a  rain  of 
bullets  to  the  door  of  refuge. 

"  The  Indians  will  heap  kindling  against  the  walls  and 
burn  us  alive/'  shrieked  the  women  of  the  blockhouse. 


372  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  The  Indians  will  shoot  arrows  of  fire  into  this  roof  of 
cedar." 

All  day  the  varying  contest  raged.  Now  and  then  the 
boom  of  a  gun  from  the  ship  punctured  the  whistling 
of  Indian  bullets  and  the  shrill  screams  of  Indian  women 
urging  on  the  warriors.  Above  all,  the  deep  voice  of 
Qualchin  could  be  heard  issuing  orders  on  the  hills  back 
of  Seattle.  Here  and  there  groups  of  Indians  were  danc 
ing  like  demons  around  unexploded  shells,  when  to  their 
amazed  discomfiture  the  evil  things  burst  into  a  thousand 
fragments. 

"  Shoots  twice ! "  yelled  the  dodging  savages,  still 
more  astounded  at  scraps  of  shrapnel  "  shooting  around 
corners." 

As  the  ship's  bell  sounded  the  hour  of  noon,  the  worn- 
out  besiegers  retired  to  dine  on  scraps  of  stolen  break 
fasts  and  the  slaughtered  village  cows  their  women  were 
cooking  in  the  forest. 

"  Bring  the  women  and  children  on  board  the  '  De- 
catur '  and  the  lumber  bark  '  Brontes,'  yonder,"  ordered 
Captain  Gansevoort,  while  the  men  of  the  village  rushed 
home  for  their  guns  and  provisions. 

"  Stand  firm,  my  boys,  or  your  scalps  will  hang  in  the 
red  man's  wigwam,"  charged  Lieutenant  Phelps  to  his 
marines,  as  the  warriors,  perceiving  this  movement,  came 
hurrying  back. 

"  Never  fear  for  us,  sir ;  we  will  stand  by  you  or  die 
in  our  tracks,"  came  the  answer  from  the  sawd'ust,  where 
now  the  howitzer  and  a  twelve-pound  field-gun  kept  up  an 
intermittent  fire.  And  with  them  on  the  sawdust  danced 
Curly,  in  war-dress  and  paint,  a  musket  in  one  hand  and 
a  long  bow  in  the  other,  "  all  legs  and  arms,"  laughed 
Lieutenant  Phelps,  despite  the  gravity  of  the  situation. 

For  how  many  more  warriors  might  be  crowding  in 
from  the  lakes  behind  none  could  tell.  That  was  a  world 
unexplored,  leading  back  into  Klikitat  passes  no  white 
man  had  yet  travelled. 

Without  food,  without  rest,  three  o'clock  found  the 
marines  exhausted,  when  returning  on  shipboard  and 
manning  the  great  guns  they  discharged  balls  and  shells 


UNDER    FIRE    ON    THE    COLUMBIA     373 

in  such  profusion  that  to  this  day  they  are  dug  from  the 
streets  of  Seattle.  With  a  cheer  from  the  line-of-battle 
ship's  crew,  the  foe  was  seen  retreating;  but  for  days, 
until  their  ammunition  was  expended,  a  desultory  firing 
continued  from  the  hills  of  the  blockhouse. 

"  In  one  moon  we  return,"  came  Qualchin's  boastful 
message.  "  No  ship  can  save." 

He  had  sent  for  the  Northern  savages. 

Never  more  astonished  was  Governor  Stevens  than  on 
his  return  to  find  the  cabin  of  the  man-of-war  filled  with 
women  and  children,  while  Captain  Gansevoort  and  his 
officers  were  crowded  out  on  deck.  "  Oh,  you  are  mis 
taken  ;  there  surely  could  n't  have  been  an  attack,  Cap 
tain.  It  is  incredible !  " 

"  Yes,"  cried  the  citizens,  "  Leschi  attacked,  but  we 
were  saved,  —  saved  by  the  good  ship  '  Decatur.'  '  Uncle 
Sam's  marines  in  blue  flannel  and  slouch  hats  were  the 
heroes  of  the  hour. 


XVII 

UNDER  FIRE   ON  THE   COLUMBIA 

E^E  a  mountain  lake  lies  the  Columbia  at  the  Cas 
cades,  dammed  back  by  rocks  and  rapids  where 
the  Bridge  of  the  Gods  fell  in.  Here  lay  Colonel 
Wright's  army  baggage  and  munitions  of  war  awaiting 
transportation  to  the  upper  country,  and  here  workmen 
were  hammering  at  a  wooden  railway  to  hasten  commu 
nication  around  the  rough  and  rocky  portage.  But  sleep 
less  Kamiakin  was  watching.  Unable  yet  to  transport 
his  supplies.  Colonel  Wright  passed  on  up,  reconnoitring 
the  river.  Indian  couriers  saw,  and  sped  on  fleet  horses 
to  Kamiakin. 

March  26,  1856,  was  a  Spring  morning  of  heavenly 
sunshine.  As  the  Jews  rebuilded  Jerusalem  with  imple 
ments  of  war  in  one  hand  and  their  trowels  in  the  other, 
so  the  farmers  of  the  Columbia,  with  guns  on  their 
shoulders,  were  guiding  the  plough.  The  peaceful  bosom 


3^4          MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

of  the  great  river  mirrored  Hood  and  her  sister  peaks, 
and  men  were  breathing  again,  confident  in  the  protec 
tion  of  the  regular  army.  But  suddenly  nature's  rock- 
hewn  fortresses  above  the  Cascades  were  hung  with 
Kamiakin's  army.  Like  fire  out  of  a  clear  sky  came  their 
quick  fusillade,  shattering  the  workmen  at  the  wooden 
tramway  and  raining  leaden  hail  on  pilot-house  and  deck 
of  a  little  steamer  at  the  shore.  With  a  crew  of  two  — 
the  pilot  lying  on  his  back  and  one  man  at  the  engine  — 
the  little  boat  got  away  and  blew  a  defying  whistle.  Like 
a  busy  village  the  Cascades  had  been  a  moment  before. 
Now  all  were  fleeing  and  falling  toward  the  blockhouse. 
But  that  whistle  —  what  hope  lay  in  its  music ! 

"How  long  will  it  take  to  go  to  Vancouver?  How 
long  to  Portland?"  The  terrified  inhabitants  panted, 
packed,  and  crowded  in  the  blockhouse. 

Steadily  came  the  ilium  —  thum  —  ihum  of  shots, 
rocks,  and  burning  pitchwood  on  the  roof.  There  seemed 
no  cessation  to  the  furious  onslaught.  Even  at  midnight 
sheets  of  flame  lit  sky  and  river,  where  burning  arrows 
had  kindled  the  neighboring  roofs.  Could  the  blockhouse 
holdout?  The  third  morning  dawned,  and  lo !  two  little 
steamers  hove  in  sight  fairly  blue  with  soldiers,  and 
towing  a  flat-boat  with  dragoon  horses.  Portland  had 
come  to  the  rescue,  and  Phil  Sheridan,  with  his  first 
little  command  of  forty  dragoons  from  Fort  Vancouver. 
How  their  clanking  sabres  made  sweet  music  to  the 
beleaguered  blockhouse!  How  their  polished  bayonets 
gleamed  and  glistened  in  the  morning  sun ! 

That  day  the  famous  Phil  Sheridan  fought  his  first 
battle,  —  one  shot  grazed  the  side  of  his  nose  and  killed 
a  soldier  at  his  side.  Back  to  the  Yakima  the  Indians 
scampered,  Sheridan  following  and  bivouacking  in  snow 
seven  feet  deep  at  the  entrance  of  the  very  pass  over 
which  Leschi  was  fleeing  to  Kamiakin. 

"  I  offer  peace  on  condition  that  you  return  to  your  homes  and 
stop  this  war.  But  if  you  decline,  I  shall  war  to  the  death." 

With  this  proclamation,  to  the  astonishment  of  every 
one,  Colonel  Wright  had  crossed  into  the  heart  of 


UNDER    FIRE    ON    THE    COLUMBIA      375 

Kamiakin's  country.  Billy  McKay,  the  Colonel's  inter 
preter,  bore  this  message  into  the  camp  of  Kamiakm. 
With  folded  arms  Billy  waited. 

Crafty  Kamiakin,  but  yesterday  threatening  the  Cceur 
d'Alenes,  flattering  the  Spokanes,  brow-beating  the  Nez 
Perces.  suddenly  paused,  and  called  his  Yakimas  together. 
"  Accept  the  offer,"  the  old  chief  advised  them.  '  Your 
supplies  are  gone,  your  warriors  will  be  harassed.  Your 
women  and  children  may  fall  into  the  hands  of  the 
conquerors  and  become  slaves.  Accept,  and  end  these 
dangers.  But  as  for  me,"  raising  his  right  hand  and 
striking  his  left  breast,  "  I  am  Kamiakin  still !  I  go  to 
the  Blackfoot  country,  where  the  white  man  does  not 
venture." 

"  Let  me  put  you  on  your  guard  in  reference  to  Leschi, 
Kitsap,  Ouiemuth,  and  Stahi  from  the  Sound,"  Governor 
Stevens  liad  written  to  Colonel  Wright.  "Let  no  ar 
rangements  be  made  which  will  save  their  necks  from  the 
executioner." 

But  already  the  Indians  had  surrendered  and  scattered. 
Chief  Factor  James  Sinclair,  hurrying  down  the  Co 
lumbia  to  his  wife  at  Vancouver,  reached  the  Cascades 
just  in  time  to  be  shot  at  the  door  of  the  beleaguered 
blockhouse. 

"  For  now  we  have  gone  into  the  war,  we  spare  neither 
friend  nor  foe,"  was  the  announcement  of  Kamiakin. 

On  a  board  from  the  blockhouse  door  the  crowded 
survivors  slid  the  body  of  Sinclair  down  into  the  river. 
Meanwhile,  William  McKay,  wild  with  anxiety,  and 
fearing  the  worst  for  his  beloved  Margaret,  discovered 
her  safe  with  Sinclair's  children  in  care  of  the  Ameri 
cans  at  the  Dalles.  "  You  will  never  be  mistress  of 
Hontimini,  Margaret,  but  how  about  a  log  cabin  here 
on  the  Columbia  ?  "  , 

Margaret  smiled  through  her  tears.  She  was  doubly 
orphaned  now,  and  Billy  McKay  seemed  all  the  friend 
she  had  left  in  the  world.  Upon  his  return  from  the 
Wright  campaign  there  was  a  quiet  gathering  at  the 
frontier  fort  to  celebrate  the  first  wedding  at  the  Dalles 
of  the  Columbia. 


3;6     MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

Turning,  with  the  polished  manner  of  one  who  had 
always  associated  with  gentlemen  of  rank,  dignity,  and 
culture,  and  bowing  low  over  the  hand  of  his  bride  in 
the  courtly  fashion  he  had  learned  in  the  old  Vancouver 
days,  Dr.  McKay  murmured,  "  I  never  expected  to  have 
the  honor  of  marrying  McGillivray's  granddaughter." 

The  wrords  carried  them  back  to  other  days  and  other 
scenes,  when  Fort  William  of  the  North,  named  for 
William  McGillivray,  was  the  metropolitan  headquarters 
from  which  McKay's  redoubtable  grandfather  accom 
panied  Sir  Alexander  Mackenzie  in  the  first  tour  of  white 
men  across  North  America.  For  that  William  this  one 
had  been  named,  and  now  in  their  grandchildren  the  two 
families  were  united,  at  the  Dalles  of  the  Columbia. 


XVIII 
THE   SPOKANE   BATTLES 

"  A  PPRECIATE  the  old  Roman  principle,  'Conquer 
l\  the  country  by  the  roads  you  build,'  "  said  Gov- 
-*-  JL  ernor  Stevens.  "  Our  Territory  seems  almost 
an  unknown  land  at  home,  yet  it  is  situated  on  the  great 
highway  of  nations  and  has  the  most  magnificent  and 
capacious  harbor  on  either  the  Atlantic  or  the  Pacific 
shore.  The  question  of  the  Pacific  Railroad  is  not  simply 
one  of  domestic  intercommunication,  it  is  the  question 
of  a  struggle  for  the  commerce  of  the  world.  The 
Territory  of  to-day  is  the  populous  State  to-morrow." 

By  such  prophetic  utterances,  the  Governor  was 
awakening  the  Northwest  to  its  place  in  the  world. 
Rumors  of  this  penetrated  even  the  teepees. 

"  Come  to  our  protection,"  Angus  McDonald  of  Col- 
ville  sent  a  hurried  petition  to  Colonel  Steptoe  at  Fort 
Walla  Walla. 

"  I  warn  you  it  is  not  safe,"  said  an  old  Indian  scout 


THE    SPOKANE    BATTLES  377 

when  he  saw  Steptoe  preparing  to  "  ride  light,"  with  as 
little  incumbrance  as  possible. 

"  The  danger  is  greatly  exaggerated,  if,  indeed,  there 
is  any  danger  at  all,"  replied  the  Colonel,  ordering  all 
save  officers  to  leave  their  pistols  and  sabres,  and  re 
stricting  the  privates  to  the  small  musketoon.  "  With 
two  hundred  men  and  two  howitzers,  what  need  be 
feared  ?  " 

A  hundred  mules  had  been  packed.  Still  the  ammu 
nition  lay  on  the  ground,  and  the  line  marched  away 
with  only  what  each  man  carried  in  his  cartridge-box. 

"  Strange  oversight  that !  "  growled  the  sutler,  restoring 
the  cases  to  the  magazine. 

"The  surveyors!  they  are  coming  —  look  out!" 
Kamiakin  flashed  the  message. 

"  Going  to  build  a  railroad  that  will  drive  away  our 
deer  and  buffalo,"  said  the  Cceur  d'Alenes. 

Long  since  the  Spokanes  and  Cceur  d'Alenes  had 
bound  themselves  by  oath  to  massacre  any  party  that 
should  attempt  a  survey.  Even  away  back  in  days  when 
Fort  Colville  was  first  built  the  Cceur  d'Alenes  had 
warned  the  fur  traders,  — "  To  this  stream  you  may 
come,  and  no  farther."  Unrelenting,  unconquerable, 
wary,  and  watchful,  "  A  survey,"  Kamiakin  assured 
them,  "  means  soldiers  in  our  country  " ;  adding  with  set 
lips  and  the  deep  tone  so  impressive  to  Indians,  "  I  will 
teach  those  fellows  who  Kamiakin  is."- 

And  the  soldiers  were  coming,  fearlessly  cantering  with 
fife  and  bugle  over  Maytime  meads  of  blossoming  camas. 

"  They  are  looking  out  a  road  from  the  Missouri  to 
the  Columbia,"  said  Kamiakin.  More  than  any  other  he 
seemed  prescient  of  the  movements  of  these  whites;  his 
spies  were  in  every  camp ;  he  knew  the  very  morning 
when  Steptoe  left  Walla  Walla.  , 

On  the  old  trail  to  Colville,  suddenly,  on  the  tenth  day 
out,  a  thousand  Indians  arose  as  from  the  very  earth. 

"What  business  in  our  country?"  demanded  a  war 
chief. 

"  We  are  passing  to  Colville  and  have  no  hostile 
intentions." 


378  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

!  "What  for  big  guns ?" 

Like  Greek  choriambi  rolled  out  derisive  hoots  and 
cries,  "  Go  back !  go  back !  you  cannot  cross  the 
Spokane." 

"  Why,  of  course  I  will  go  back  if  you  don't  wish  me 
to  pass,"  Steptoe  agreed,  conscious  of  his  inability  to 
cope  with  such  formidable  opposition.  That  very 
concession  increased  the  insolence  of  his  adversaries. 

No  sleep  visited  the  Americans  that  night,  —  at  three 
o'clock  Steptoe's  two  hundred  were  on  the  back  trail. 
By  daylight  they  were  surrounded.  To  march,  to  fight, 
to  defend  a  pack-train,  —  "  Lord,  if  we  only  had  our 
sabres !  "  exclaimed  a  soldier  when  his  few  rounds  of 
ammunition  had  been  expended.  But  the  Indians  had 
not  discovered  that. 

"  Ah,  ha !  we  have  them  now !  "  laughed  Kamiakin  as 
Steptoe's  retreat  grew  into  a  day-long  flight.  On  a  little 
hill  the  soldiers  were  crawling.  Above  whistled  Indian 
bullets.  Kamaikin  was  planning  a  rush  when  swift 
darkness  descended. 

"  I  know  a  path,  a  trail,"  whispered  Timothy,  the 
Nez  Perce.  "  Follow  me." 

With  fires  blazing,  tents  standing,  mules  picketed, 
burying  their  dead,  and  caching  their  howitzers,  at  ten 
o'clock  at  night  the  decimated  command  crept  out.  Up 
a  steep  slope,  deemed  so  impassable  that  it  was  not  even 
guarded,  Chief  Timothy  led  Steptoe's  fugitives,  and  then 
ninety  miles  at  a  gallop,  without  rest,  to  the  crossing  of 
the  Snake,  out  of  the  trap  of  Kamaikin.  "  Rest  here," 
said  Timothy ;  "  our  women  will  ferry  you  over." 

"  A  disastrous  affair !  "  General  Winfield  Scott  in 
Washington  City  could  hardly  credit  this  St.  Clair  de 
feat  in  the  Oregon  country.  '  The  small  supply  of 
ammunition  is  surprising  and  unaccounted  for." 

"  No  favor  to  any  tribe  that  harbors  Kamiakin,"  be 
came  now  the  watchword  of  Colonel  Wright,  preparing 
to  sweep  into  the  Indian  country  with  all  available  troops 
on  the  coast.  Horse,  foot,  and  artillery,  like  "  Mad 
Anthony "  Wayne  he  drilled  them,  and  crossed  the 
Snake.  To  the  scene  of  Steptoe's  defeat  they  hastened,  a 


THE    SPOKANE    BATTLES  379 

thousand  men,  to  find  bones  of  soldiers  bleaching  amidst 
the  burnt  and  broken  wreckage  of  a  plundered  camp. 

"  Come !  we  will  do  with  you  as  we  did  with  Steptoe !  " 
Indians  were  challenging  and  beckoning,  advancing,  re 
treating,  curveting,  and  prancing  in  a  myriad  magnificent 
manoeuvres. 

The  junior  officers  were  for  an  instant  charge. 

"  Wait,"  counselled  the  cautious  Colonel,  posting  how 
itzers  under  cover  of  night  on  an  eminence  overlooking 
the  Indians. 

When  his  cavalry  were  deployed  at  sunrise,  the  wild 
horsemen  looked  up,  and  the.  soldiers  looked  down,  each 
on  a  stirring  drama.  Blue  uniforms  and  sabres  glittered 
on  the  hills;  painted  horses  and  eagle  plumes  fluttered 
below;  and  the  Four  Lakes  of  Spokane  glistened  in 
primeval  beauty.  Bare-armed  Yakima  girls,  oriental- 
eyed,  in  many-colored  helmets  woven  to  fit  like  jockey 
caps  their  lustreless  locks,  waved  their  gallant  champions 
to  the  fray.  And  the  field  was  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of 
Gold,  lit  with  autumnal  splendor. 

"  By  heaven  !  it  is  a  glorious  sight  to  see 
The  gay  array  of  their  wild  chivalry," 

murmured  Lieutenant  Kip,  fascinated  with  the  fantastic 
throng  that  swayed  back  and  forth  on  their  fleet  ponies 
in  the  dawning  September  sun. 

Never  before  had  such  fateful  arms -been  seen  in  the 
red  men's  country.  Howitzers  thundered,  bows  twanged, 
and  arrows  flew.  Long-range  rifles  flashed,  and  minie 
balls  whistled  in  the  wind.  Wheeling,  dashing,  firing, 
one  by  one  the  wild  braves  fell.  Then  came  the  dragoon 
charge  with  sabres  glancing.  Dust  whirled  in  clouds 
around  the  flying  horsemen  as  they  glanced  fearfully 
back  at  the  "  Big  Knives."  And  wherever  danger  was 
thickest,  there  was  the  white  horse  of  Kamiakin.  Blankets, 
robes,  guns,  all  the  wild  paraphernalia  of  flight  covered 
the  ground  for  miles.  Again,  on  the  fourth  day  Kamiakin 
rallied  his  shattered  forces.  He  set  the  grass  on  fire,  but 
the  white  dragoons  leaped  through,  fighting  inch  by  inch 
for  fourteen  miles  the  battle  of  Spokane  Plains.  Burning 


38o  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

their  villages  as  they  fled,  and  carrying  away  their  women, 
their  children,  and  their  slain,  the  red  men  were  not 
surpassed  in  courage  by  the  white  men.  With  their  old 
Asiatic  tomanawas  masks  on,  the  chiefs  had  ridden,  the 
sacred  bear  mask,  the  wolf  mask,  and  the  war  bonnet  of 
eagle  feathers  down  their  backs. 

But  Donati's  terrifying  comet  was  sweeping  a  tail  of 
flame  across  the  heavens.  When  Kamiakin  set  the  tall 
prairie,  grass  on  fire,  and  the  battle  blazing  toward 
Spokane  Falls  forced  them  back,  they  heard  the  thunder 
of  the  cataract  in  their  rear,  and  gave  up. 

"  An  Evil  Spirit  is  in  the  sky,  and  in  the  water  that 
has  wrecked  so  many  canoes,"  quavered  the  Indians  when 
the  hollow-toned  sullen  cavern  roared  under  the  Falls  of 
Spokane.  "  The  voices  of  the  dead  are  speaking  for  the 
white  man." 

Three  miles  below  Spokane  Falls  Colonel  Wright  rested. 
Garry  came  first  into  his  camp,  with  a  plea  for  peace. 

"  I  could  not  control  my  young  men  and  the  chiefs," 
pleaded  Garry.  "  I  never  wanted  to  fight.  May  we  hold 
a  council  ?  " 

"  I  came  to  fight,  not  to  council,"  sternly  returned  the 
Colonel.  "If  you  want  peace,  you  must  come  to  me  with 
your  arms,  your  women  and  children,  and  everything 
you  have,  and  lay  them  at  my  feet.  You  must  put  your 
faith  in  me  and  trust  to  my  mercy." 

As  Garry  departed,  afar  could  be  heard  the  wailing  of 
women,  lamenting  and  tearing  their  hair  as  they  bore  the 
dead  across  their  saddles  in  the  moonlight.  That  night 
a  thousand  Indian  ponies  were  brought  in,  fleet,  yellow- 
bodied,  wild-eyed  as  their  masters,  delicate  creatures, 
pink-nosed,  all  life  and  fire.  Every  lineament  revealed 
the  desert  blood,  the  pure  Arabian  stock  the  Spaniards 
bought  or  plundered  of  the  Moors  and  brought  to 
Mexico. 

"  The  only  way  to  subdue  Indians  is  to  unhorse  them 
and  destroy  their  supplies,"  said  Colonel  Wright.  "  It 
is  a  war  measure,  —  shoot  them,  every  one." 

A  great  wail  went  up  from  the  Indians.  Their  play 
mates,  their  comrades,  their  friends  were  those  beautiful 


THE    SPOKANE    BATTLES  381 

Cayuse  ponies.  With  pricked-up  ears,  "  almost  as  in 
telligent  as  Christians,"  the  ponies  appeared  to  understand 
every  motion,  every  whisper.  With  frightened  eyes  they 
glanced,  tossed  up  their  manes,  and  some  stampeded. 

"  We  cannot  hold  them  for  the  long  march  before  us, 
they  are  too  wild  for  the  service  of  white  riders.  Shoot 
them." 

And  on  the  morrow,  e-ight  hundred  spotted  horses  lay 
dead  on  the  prairie.  The  effect  upon  the  Indians  was 
instantaneous.  Never  before  had  they  known  a  real  con 
queror.  Never  before  had  their  wills  and  hearts  been 
broken.  With  almost  frantic  haste  the  tribes  came  in  to 
lay  down  their  arms,  their  families,  and  their  all,  agreeing 
never  again  to  engage  in  hostilities.  But  Kamiakin  came 
not;  with  a  few  followers  he  fled  across  the  border  into 
British  Columbia. 


CONCLUSION 


CONCLUSION 


THE  RETURN  OF  RANALD  McDONALD 

"A  yT°NIQUE!" 

V/l       Two  old  voyageurs  of  the  Columbia  bring- 

-L  *  JL  ing  their  birch  canoes  aboard  the  steamer 
"  Lady  Simpson,"  at  Lachine  on  the  St.  Lawrence, 
heard  the  call  from  a  handsomely  dressed,  bronzed,  and 
bearded  stranger.  They  paused,  surprised,  as  seizing 
the  boat  with  the  hand  of  a  practised  sailor  he  drew 
it  aboard  and  turned  to  the  wondering  Frenchmen. 

"  Boys,  don't  you  recognize  me,  Ranald  McDonald, 
who  journeyed  with  you  from  Fort  Colville  more  than 
twenty  years  ago?" 

With  loud  exclamations,  overjoyed  as  if  he  had  been  a 
brother,  the  two  old  Columbians  welcomed  the  wanderer 
home.  His  father  dead,  his  mother  a  widow,  and  his 
brothers  grown,  westward  Ranald  now  journeyed  with 
the  two  Moniques  in  that  marvellous  summer  when  all 
the  world  seemed  tending  toward  the  Fraser. 

At  the  very  time  of  the  Spokane  battles,  presto !  gold  on 
the  Fraser  was  repeating  the  miracle  of  California.  Carts, 
vans,  expresses,  and  strangers  from  every  land  were 
thronging  in  and  out  of  Victoria  with  the  quest  of  "  Gold ! 
gold!  "  on  their  eager  faces. 

Crazy  old  boats,  canoes,  steamers,  and  sailing  vessels 
were  thronging  over  from  the  American  shore,  taking 
the  country.  Dr.  Tolmie  came  too  with  the  rest,  on  the 
steamer  "  Otter,"  in  July,  1859,  with  his  family  and 
furniture,  abandoning  ^isqually  forever. 

Great  men  of  Victoria  now  were  Governor  James 
Douglas,  Chief  Factor  John  Work,  and  Dr.  Tolmie. 

25 


386  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

And  Ranald?  they  welcomed  him  as  from  the  dead.  But 
even  his  adventures  in  Japan  seemed  dwarfed  by  the  rush 
into  the  hills  around  the  old  forts  on  the  Eraser,  where 
the  Hudson  Bay  Company  had  lorded  it  for  forty  years, 
and  where  once  Archibald  McDonald,  a  lone  trader,  had 
pined  in  the  Northwest  solitude.  The  very  babbling 
brooks  flowed  over  yellow  gold,  and  even  Indians  were 
digging  where  long  they  had  loitered.  Plunging  into  the 
spirit  of  it  all,  Ranald  forgot  all  about  Japan,  exploring 
and  assisting  in  building  wagon  roads  from  the  sea  to 
the  mines  over  the  old  Fraser  route  his  father  and  Sir 
George  Simpson  had  travelled,  pioneering  the  Canadian 
Pacific. 

"  Chip  of  the  old  block,"  said  Tolmie,  who  remembered 
when  Archibald  McDonald  had  built  Nisqually,  the  first 
habitation  of  white  men  in  the  green  Puget  forests.  For 
more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  since  that  Dr.  Tolmie 
had  been  identified  with  "  The  Company,"  his  one  great 
mistress  next  to  England's  Queen.  But  now  Leschi 
was  hanged,  and  Kamiakin  routed,  no  Indians  from 
reservations  came  selling  furs  around  the  accustomed 
doors.  Trade  was  ended.  Gradually  the  old  bastions 
and  palisades  of  Fort  Nisqually  went  down,  for  Edward 
Huggins  had  preempted  it  as  a  claim  under  the  American 
Government.  And  his  bride  was  Letitia,  the  daughter  of 
the  brave  old  Chief  Factor,  John  Work. 

"  Good  luck  has  been  with  you  all  your  life,"  said  the 
Chief  Factor  on  his  daughter's  wedding  day.  "  Once, 
when  you  were  but  a  few  days  old,  our  cavalcade  stopped 
to  camp  on  the  River  Snake.  One  of  the  women  took 
you  from  your  mother  and  carefully  laid  you,  sleeping, 
on  the  grass.  Presently,  when  the  camp  was  ready,  your 
mother  went  to  pick  up  her  child,  but,  lo !  she  was  literally 
covered  with  tiny  ducklings  lately  from  the  shell. 

"  '  Drive  away  the  ducklings !  Kill  them !  We  have 
laid  the  baby  in  a  duck's  nest ! '  cried  the  women. 

"  '  No/  said  your  mother.  '  Let  them  be.  They  will 
bring  her  good  luck  ' ;  and  for  a  long  time  the  Indians 
called  you  '  Tawish,  the  Duckling.'  ' 

All  the  daughters  of  John  Work  married  officers  of 


THE  RETURN  OF  RANALD  McDONALD  387 

the  Hudson  Bay  Company.  "  Silks!  "  the  neighbors  used 
to  say.  "  Why,  the  Work  girls  have  so  many  silk  dresses 
they  pay  the  washerwomen  with  discarded  silks."  So 
old  timers  among  Americans  on  the  Sound  remember 
Letitia  as  "  the  pretty  girl  in  silk  at  the  fort,"  who  on 
summer  nights  with  her  lover  and  Dr.  Tolmie  went 
riding  like  the  wind  up  to  Steilacoom. 

And  Letitia  herself?  Old  Fort  Nisqually  is  a  farm 
house  now  in  the  edge  of  Tacoma,  and  before  the  big  fire 
of  oak  and  bark  Edward  and  Letitia  still  sit,  recalling 
events  of  that  bygone  time  when  old  Fort  Nisqually  rang 
with  the  pipes  and  Lord  McDonald's  Reel.  Around  them 
gathers  an  honored  family,  and  over  the  Sound  from 
Victoria  still  comes  the  boat,  bringing  Tolmie's  daughters 
to  visit  "  Aunt  Letitia." 

On  business,  in  1859,  Ranald  McDonald  taking  a  trip 
to  San  Francisco  met  his  old  sea  captain,  Lawrence  B. 
Edwards,  with  whom  he  had  sailed  on  the  whaler  to 
Japan. 

"  Is  it  you,  Mac,  and  alive?  "  Overjoyed,  the  Captain 
snatched  the  hand  of  Ranald.  "  I  have  thought  of  you  a 
thousand  times  since  we  let  you  go  off  in  that  'Little 
Plymouth.'  Come  with  me  to  my  home."  In  a  mansion 
of  the  new  San  Francisco  Ranald  met  the  wife  and 
children  of  Captain  Edwards.  "  And  now  let  me  pay 
you  fifty  dollars  on  our  account,"  insisted  the  Captain. 
"  I  never  had  a  settlement  about  that  voyage  with  the 
owners  when  I  returned  home,  for,  the  fact  is,  I  left  as 
soon  as  possible  for  California,  where  the  gold  excite 
ment  was  then  at  its  highest.  There  is  some  litigation 
going  on  yet  about  that  ship  and  cargo.  But,  with  in 
terest,  I  must  owe  you  quite  a  handsome  sum  for  your 
share  in  that  whaling  voyage.  Here,  let  me  make  a 
payment." 

"  No,"  Ranald  declined  with  thanks,  "  I  do  not  need 
it  now." 

"  But  as  soon  as  it  is  settled  I  will  let  you  know,"  per 
sisted  the  Captain ;  and  that  is  the  last  Ranald  ever  heard 
of  it.  He  never  saw  Edwards  again. 


388  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

At  Fort  Colville  alone  Ranald  found  few  changes  in 
these  Rip- Van-Winkle  years.  On  its  abandonment  under 
the  treaty  of  1846  Angus  McDonald  had  settled  there 
with  his  sons  and  family.  Now  it  was  a  stock  farm,  the 
progeny  of  the  three  precious  calves  and  the  three  little 
pigs  taken  up  there  in  canoes  in  1826.  But  one  was 
there  whom  Ranald  had  not  expected,  —  his  beautiful 
cousin,  Christine.  As  weeks  flew  by,  more  and  more 
Christine  grew  into  the  fancy  of  Ranald  McDonald. 

"  Well,  I  am  thinking  about  getting  married,  but,  ho ! 
Christine,  you  always  say  no,"  laughed  Ranald.  "  Now, 
if  you  don't  say  yes,  I  shall  never  marry." 

And  he  never  did,  for  Christine  married  another. 

James  Bird  —  "  Jemmy  Jock  "  of  the  Blackfeet  —  had 
come  to  Colville,  a  handsome,  benevolent-looking  old 
man,  working  for  Angus  McDonald.  Patiently  in  these 
days  he  was  teaching  his  son,  Andrew  Bird,  to  drive 
work-oxen  to  haul  a  log  a  day.  As  Ranald  watched  them, 
sometimes  he  thought  of  the  wild  tales  he  had  heard  in 
the  old  Vancouver  fort  of  "  Jemmy  Jock,"  the  Rob  Roy 
of  the  Blackfeet.  But  James  Bird  had  left  the  Indians, 
joined  the  new  order,  and  become  a  civilian. 

In  the  Spokane  country  forty  years  ago  there  was  a 
famous  bone-yard,  the  bones  of  Indian  ponies  driven  there 
by  the  army  and  shot  by  hundreds,  breaking  the  hearts 
of  the  Indians  and  opening  the  way  for  the  Northern 
Pacific  Railroad.  Back  over  the  border  slipped  Kamia- 
kin,  white-haired  and  broken  now,  lamenting  to  Ranald 
"  the  horses,  the  beautiful  spotted  horses." 

Some  figures  cast  gigantic  shadows  through  the  years. 
In  a  lone  sweep  of  the  upper  country  there  stands  the 
Rock  of  Kamiakin,  emblematic  of  the  chief  who  to  the 
end  of  his  days  was  a  sentinel,  a  hero,  and  a  patriot  of 
his  race.  But  a  new  time  had  come,  the  red  man  must 
give  up  the  vast  areas  over  which  he  was  wont  to  roam, 
and  adapt  himself  to  new  conditions. 

In  the  very  year  of  Ranald's  return  Oregon  became 
a  State,  after  ten  stormy  Territorial  years,  during  most 


THE  RETURN  OF  RANALD  McDONALD  389 

of  which  George  L.  Curry  had  been  Governor  of  the 
Indian-haunted  Pacific  border.  Now,  after  continual 
defeat  and  surrender,  the  wild  birds  were  caged  on  reser 
vations,  —  even  Chief  John  of  the  River  Rogue. 

Sheridan,  the  dashing  and  brilliant,  was  at  the  reser 
vation,  —  he  of  the  dragoon  battle  at  the  Cascades ; 
Clark  Greenman  was  there  to  teach  the  Indians  farming, 
and  Phonse  Boone  of  the  citizen  guards.  Wandering 
about  the  hills  and  vales,  lovely  as  the  park  of  an  Eng 
lish  nobleman,  the  old  men,  the  warriors,  dreamed  of 
their  wild  young  days. 

"  It  is  not  your  wars  but  your  peace  that  kills  my 
people,"  said  Chief  John  to  Sheridan.  Already  he  was 
plotting  to  get  away.  At  length  so  much  restlessness 
and  rebellion  the  chief  aroused  that  it  was  decided  to 
imprison  him  and  his  son  at  Fort  Alcatraz  in  California. 
But  as  the  steamer  bearing  them  down  the  coast  passed 
the  mouth  of  Rogue  River,  Chief  John  and  his  son  broke 
their  shackles  and  almost  captured  the  vessel  in  an  effort 
to  escape  and  swim  to  their  beloved  shore  of  the  Sugar 
Pine  Groves. 

About  that  same  time  in  the  capital  city  Salem  there 
were  music  and  sounds  of  dancing. 

•"  Who  is  that  beautiful  young  lady  ?  "  All  eyes  were 
centred  upon  a  maid  in  blue  velvet  with  golden  stars, 
led  to  the  dance  by  the  Governor. 

'  That,"  answered  those  who  knew,  "  that  is  Miss 
Lyons,  daughter  of  the  United  States  Consul  to  Yoko 
hama.  She  is  soon  to  be  married  to  Joseph  Watt,  the 
founder  of  this  woollen  mill  that  we  are  dedicating 
to-night,  the  first  on  the  Pacific  Coast." 

Scarce  were  the  surrendered  Indians  of  Oregon  safely 
caged  before  the  wild  men  of  the  North  gave  new  tokens 
of  trouble.  Too  late  they  had  espoused  the  cause  of 
Kamiakin.  Slipping  down  in  their  cedar  canoes,  polished 
and  gleaming,  and  provisioned  for  long  journeys,  like 
the  old  Norse  Vikings,  Haidas,  Tsimpseans,  and  Alas 
kans  were  harrying  again  the  Puget  settlements. 


390  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

"  Nothing  can  prevent  these  depredations  but  the  con 
stant  presence  of  armed  cruisers  in  Fuca  Sea,"  said  the 
settlers. 

Captain  Swartwout,  with  the  steamship  "Massachu 
setts,"  shelled  a  camp  of  the  pirates  at  Port  Gamble, 
raking  fore  and  aft,  destroying  a  whole  fleet.  "  Now 
will  you  leave?"  Young  head-hunters,  with  lank  hair 
tied  up  in  bunches  under  their  wash-bowl  hats  of  platted 
cedar,  cast  frightened  glances  out  of  their  long,  slit, 
Asiatic  eyes.  "  If  I  furnish  boats  and  food  will  you 
go  back  to  your  own  country  and  stay  there  ?  " 

^  They  would.  Buying  up  all  the  canoes  he  could  find, 
Captain  Swartwout  took  them  in  and  set  out  for  Alaska 
by  way  of  the  Gulf  of  Georgia. 

"  Lots  of  gold  in  our  country,"  said  the  Indians,  point 
ing  toward  the  future  Klondike.  But  one  beautiful  after 
noon  when  the  "  Massachusetts  "  was  steaming  proudly 
up,  the  chief,  looking  toward  the  distant  shores,  cried 
out,  "Stop!  We  go  now.  It  is  not  far." 

Amid  seas  mirroring  heights  of  glacial  magnificence 
the  boats  were  launched,  the  great  steamer  paused,  dip 
ping  her  colors,  and  as  the  pirates  disappeared  one  hissed 
through  his  teeth,  "  We  shall  have  a  tycc  (chief)  for 
every  one  lost  in  the  battle."  Nine  months  later,  one 
summer  day,  Puget  Sound  was  horrified  by  the  report, 
'  The  Northern  Indians  have  carried  away  the  head  of 
Colonel  Ebey." 

Swiftly,  silently,  down  out  of  sub-arctic  waters  they 
had  come  and  cut  off  the  head  of  the  ex-collector  of 
customs  on  his  own  porch  at  Whidby  Island. 


THE    PASSING    OF    OLD    SIR    RANALD     391 


II 

THE   PASSING   OF   OLD   SIR   RANALD 

A~AIN  after  renewed  wanderings  Ranald  McDonald 
came  back  to  Colville,   and  to  the  deathbed  of 
his  Uncle  Angus,  who  had  gone  over  the  moun 
tains  and  founded  Montana.     Then,  following  down  the 
Columbia,  Ranald  paused,  amazed  at  Portland,  —  a  city 
not  known  in  his  boyhood.     At  Astoria  he  hunted  up  a 
few   friends  of  his  childhood.     Here  for  the  first  time 
he  heard  the  truth  about  his  birth,  that  Jane  Klyne  was 
not  his  mother,  but  the  gentle  Princess  Sunday,  of  whom 
he  had  never  heard. 

"Why  did  my  father  keep  this  from  me?"  he  cried. 
"  And  old  King  Cumcumly,  of  whom  I  have  but  the 
barest  recollection,  was  really  my  grandfather?  And  I 
am  half  a  Chinook  Indian?"  Like  a  tidal  wave  the 
discovery  came  over  him,  explaining  the  mistakes  as 
well  as  the  successes  of  his  life.  Before  the  glass,  for 
the  first  time  Ranald  looked  at  himself  in  a  new  light. 
"  Of  course  I  look  like  an  Indian.  _  Yes,  I  remember 
now ;  Ermatinger  used  to  call  me  '  Cumly  McDonald.' 
Even  the  Governor  of  Matsumai  called  me  '  Nippon j in  ' 
-  a  *  Japan-man.'  And  the  mother  of  my  brothers  was 
not  my  mother?"  Almost  he  wished  he  had  never 
known. 

Tane  Klyne,  on  her  deathbed  at  St.  Andrews,  Quebec, 
had  left  him  four  hundred  pounds  of  her  widow's  for 
tune,  remembering  Ranald  as '  her  own  child.  "  No 
wonder  I  was  different  from  my  brothers!  No  won 
der  I  was  a  wanderer !  "  Now  he  recalled  the  effort 
of  his  father  and  others  to  find  for  him  the  Oregon 
Indemnity  which  in  right  of  his  mother  was  his.  '  Yes, 
I  remember;  it  was  supposed  I  had  a  claim  on  the 
American  Government,  but  I  never  knew  why." 


392  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

The  effect  of  this  information,  as  Ranald  himself  said, 
made  him  for  a  time  "  withdraw  into  himself,"  and  he 
returned  to  Colville  to  wander  no  more.  But  that  eagle 
spirit  could  not  be  downed.  Purchasing  the  old  home 
land,  he  soon  possessed  himself  of  the  deserted  fort. 
Attracted  by  their  new  neighbor's  lofty  tone  of  thought 
and  diction,  Americans  gathered,  new-comers,  whose  earli 
est  recollection  dated  from  the  coming  of  the  railroad. 
The  relic  of  a  past  and  bygone  era,  McDonald  knew 
things  they  had  never  heard  of,  when  Fort  Colville  was 
young,  and  Oregon  an  Indian  country. 

A  fine  conversationist,  in  occasional  talkative  moods 
the  old  hero  depicted  scenes  of  surpassing  interest,  smok 
ing  his  pipe  in  the  chimney  corner  beside  the  crumbling 
hearth.  Of  old  Hudson  Bay  days  he  knew  more  than 
any  other  Oregonian,  and  of  early  adventures  on  the 
Columbia  no  living  authority  spoke  more  entrancingly. 

In  forty  years  what  changes  time  had  wrought,  with 
Old  Oregon,  even  to  its  uttermost  Upper  Columbia, 
occupied  by  Americans  and  railroads,  and  across  the 
sea  an  open  Japan. 

More  and  more  Ranald  McDonald  impressed  the  im 
agination  of  Stevens  County  with  his  fine  and  elevated 
character,  which  had  remained  unscathed  by  the  rough 
life  of  a  sailor  and  a  miner.  His  place  itself  began  to 
be  called  "  Fort  McDonald." 

"  I  was  the  wild  boy  of  the  family,"  he  used  to  say. 
"  My  brothers  were  studious,  but  I  ran  away.  My  father 
and  Duncan  Finlayson  followed  me  to  New  York  with 
the  object  of  catching  and  bringing  me  home  to  Oregon 
to  press  my  claim  to  the  United  States  as  the  heir  of 
King  Cumcumly.  But,  alas!"  with  a  smile,  "I  find 
myself  a  prince  without  a  principality,  a  king  without 
a  subject.  Still,"  after  a  pause,  "  I  am  proud,  and  have 
no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  my  blue  blood  of  the  Ameri 
can  Indian.  I  plead  guilty  to  the  soft  impeachment  of 
being  naturally  quick  to  resent  an  insult  on  this  or  any 
other  score." 

The  aristocratic  old  man  in  the  tumble-down  buildings 


THE    PASSING    OF    OLD    SIR    RANALD     393 

of  what  was  once  Fort  Colville  received  many  guests  in 
his  later  years,  among  them  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Custer,  in 
1891.  "  Here  is  the  old  Sir  Ranald,  now,"  announced  her 
attendant,  as  with  bared  head  and  Japanese  grace  Mc 
Donald  suavely  welcomed  the  widow  of  the  famous 
General,  and  showed  her  his  ruined  castle. 

"  This,  ladies,  was  the  great  gun  which  defended  His 
Majesty  King  George's  subjects  from  the  enemy,  and 
this  the  ladle  in  which  bullets  were  melted  for  the  huge 
two-inch  bore,"  said  Ranald,  kicking  the  rusty  little 
three-foot  brass  cannon  covered  with  verdigris,  which 
lay  broken  at  his  feet.  "  Now,  ladies,  can  I  escort  you 
to  our  famous  bastion?"  He  took  them  to  the  block 
house,  sprinkled  with  bullet-holes.  "  Once  we  had  a  high 
stockade,  with  a  gallery  inside,  about  which  the  sentinel 
walked,  and  down  yonder  we  made  many  a  charge  for 
water.  Think  of  it,  a  fort  and  no  well !  But  then,  when 
the  great  gate  was  closed  and  the  enemy  were  about, 
and  it  was  necessary  to  start  a  man  for  the  river,  why, 
he  ran  under  the  cover  of  our  guns  from  the  blockhouses. 
There  were  two  of  them  then.  Daily  the  Indian  servants 
brought  up  water  to  the  fort." 

Ranald's  stately  language,  in  the  style  of  Sir  Charles 
Grandison,  impressed  Mrs.  Custer  even  more  than  the 
old  fort,  as  he  took  her  into  the  hall,  with  cumbrous 
chairs  held  together  by  pegs,  and  rafters  above  with  the 
dint  of  the  axe  still  upon  them,  as  if  Charlefoux  had  left 
his  work  but  yesterday.  Before  the  adobe  fireplace, 
where  Ranald  had  listened  to  his  father  as  a  child,  he 
told  of  those  days  when  warm  drinks  were  brewed  on 
that  hearth  for  McLoughlin,  and  Douglas  and  Sir  George 
Simpson  were  flitting  by  with  brigades.  "  Forty  servants 
had  Colville  in  those  days,  and  the  nearest  court  of 
justice  was  in  Canada.  .  » 

"  The  trails  of  Pend  d'Oreilles,  Kootenays,  Flatheads, 
Coeu r  d'Alenes,  Cayuses,  —  all  the  coast  and  mountain 
Indians,  —  centred  in  this  valley.  Hither  came  pack- 
horses  almost  hidden  under  loads  of  beaver,  otter,  marten, 
mink,  and  lynx,  to  be  shipped  to  England." 

With  a  sigh  he  shook  his  head.     "  The  caribou  are 


394  MCDONALD  OF  OREGON 

gone,  and  only  two  elks  have  been  seen  in  this  part  of 
the  country  for  thirty  years." 

Theft  came  the  story  of  Japan.  "And  attendants, 
madam,  —  one  to  arrange  my  bath,  another  to  light 
my  pipe,  another  for  the  wardrobe,  one  to  be  my  major- 
domo  and  take  me  about,  another  to  fetch  coal  for  my 
fire.  It  was  all  luxury  and  magnificence,  and  I  tell  you, 
madam,  my  lord  lay  back  and  enjoyed  it  all. 

'  Yes,  I  flatter  myself  that  I  was  the  instigator  of 
Commodore  Perry's  expedition  to  Japan.  You  will  find 
my  depositions  in  executive  document  number  fifty-nine 
of  the  Thirty-second  Congress.  That  started  Perry.  I 
suggested  to  Captain  Glynn  of  the  ship  '  Preble  '  that, 
in  the  event  of  another  visit  to  Japan  for  the  purpose  of 
opening  trade,  models  of  Western  ingenuity  should  be 
taken  and  exhibited.  And  Commodore  Perry  did  that. 
After  having  girdled  the  globe  and  come  across  people 
many,  civilized  and  uncivilized,  there  are  none  to  whom 
I  feel  more  kindly  than  to  my  old  hosts  of  Japan.  I 
broke  the  seal  that  made  Japan  a  closed  empire,  —  at  all 
events,  cracked  it;  so  it  was  easy  for  Commodore  Perry 
to  do  the  rest. 

"  I  have  been  all  over  the  world,  madam,  —  to  India, 
China,  Japan,  Australia,  —  everywhere ;  but  no  matter 
how  far,  my  mind  ever  reverted  to  this  little  amphitheatre 
of  hills  at  Colville.  It  is  my  home.  Here  in  its  cherished 
ruins  I  sit  in  my  father's  old  arm-chair,  my  battles  over, 
save  with  the  wolf  daily  at  the  door." 

Part  of  Ranald  McDonald's  journal  was  lost  with  the 
wreck  of  the  "  Sea  Witch,"  near  Madras,  India ;  but  he 
still  retained  the  vocabulary  made  at  Matsumai  with  a 
crow-quill,  and  the  list  of  his  pupils,  both  of  which  are 
on  deposit  with  the  British  Columbia  Historical  Society 
at  Victoria. 

To  the  day  of  his  death  the  images  of  those  pupils 
remained  with  Ranald,  their  clear  bronze  skins  and  top 
knots,  digitated  stockings,  long-sleeved  robes,  and  dainty 
pipelets,  holding  but  a  thimbleful,  gone  out  with  a  whiff 
or  two.  Glimpses  of  high  thatched  roofs  of  steeply 
sloping  houses  lingered  in  his  dreams,  and  the  moon 


THE    PASSING    OF    OLD  SIR    RANALD     395 

through  Fort  Colville  windows  would  now  and  then  give 
precisely  the  dim  light  of  his  pupils'  paper  lanterns  on 
winter  eves  at  Nagasaki.  With  them  youth  came  back, 
and  a  longing  to  return  to  Japan. 

The  memory  of  those  days  and  the  desire  to  com 
memorate  them  grew  with  age,  and  when,  as  almost  his 
last  legacy,  he  desired  this  author  to  write  his  story,  she 
promised  as  to  the  dead.  The  billowing  boom  of  Buddha 
bells  stirred  strangely  his  last  dreams  with  their  soft 
thunder  in  the  dark.  "  Sayonara! "  he  whispered, 
"  Sayonara! " 

Ranald  McDonald,  born  at  Astoria,  Oregon,  February 
n,  1824,  died  at  Fort  Colville,  Washington,  August  24, 
1894.  The  pines  on  the  everlasting  mountains,  and  the 
waters  of  the  mighty  Columbia  tumbling  over  Kettle  Falls, 
sing  his  lonely  requiem  on  the  Colville  Reservation. 


THE    END 


BOOKS  RELATING  TO  THE  NORTHWEST 

The  Conquest 

By  EVA  EMERY  DYE.  Being  the  True  Story  of  Lewis 
and  Clark.  Third  Edition,  with  frontispiece  in  full  color 
by  Charlotte  Weber.  I2mo,  gilt  top,  504  pages.  $1.50. 

No  book  published  in  recent  years  has  more  of  tremendous  import  be 
tween  its  covers,  and  certainly  no  recent  novel  has  in  it  more  of  the 
elements  of  a  permanent  success.  A  historical  romance  which  tells  with 
accuracy  and  inspiring  style  of  the  bravery  of  the  pioneers  in  winning 
the  western  continent,  should  have  a  lasting  place  in  the  esteem  of  every 
American. 

"  No  one  who  wishes  to  know  the  true  story  of  the  conquest  of  the  greater  part  of  this 
great  nation  can  afford  to  pass  by  this  book."  —  Cleveland  Leader. 

"  A  vivid  picture  of  the  Indian  wars  preceding  the  Louisiana  purchase,  of  the  expedi 
tion  of  Lewis  and  Clark,  and  of  events  following  the  occupation  of  Oregon." — The 
Congregationalist . 

"  It  may  not  be  the  great  American  novel  we  have  been  waiting  for  so  long,  but  it 
certainly  looks  as  though  it  would  be  very  near  it."  —  Rochester  Times. 

"  The  characters  that  are  assembled  in  '  The  Conquest '  belong  to  the  history  of  the  United 
States,  their  story  is  a  national  epic." —  Detroit  Free  Press. 

McLoughlin  and  Old  Oregon 

By  EVA  EMERY  DYE.  A  Chronicle.  Sixth  Edition. 
I2mo,  381  pages.  $1.50. 

This  is  a  most  graphic  and  interesting  chronicle  of  the  movement  which 
added  to  the  United  States  that  vast  territory,  previously  a  British  posses 
sion,  of  which  Oregon  formed  a  part,  and  how  Dr.  John  McLoughlin,  then 
chief  factor  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  for  the  Northwest,  by  his  fatherly 
interest  in  the  settlers,  displeased  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  and  aided  in 
bringing  this  about.  The  author  has  gathered  her  facts  at  first  hand,  and  as 
a  result  the  work  is  vivid  and  picturesque  and  reads  like  a  romance. 

"  A  spirited  narrative  of  what  life  in  the  wilderness  meant  in  the  early  days,  a  record  of 
heroism,  self-sacrifice,  and  dogged  persistence;  a  graphic  page  of  the  story  of  the  American 
pioneer." — New  York  Mail. 

The  Bridge  of  the  Gods 

By  F.  H.  BALCH.  A  Romance  of  Indian  Oregon. 
New  (tenth)  Edition,  enlarged  size.  With  eight  full- 
page  illustrations  by  Laurens  Maynard  Dixon.  Cloth, 
I2mo,  280  pages,  gilt  top.  $1.50.  Paper  edition,  with 
out  illustrations.  50  cents. 

Encouraged  by  the  steady  demand  for  this  powerful  story,  since  its 
publication  twelve  years  ago,  the  publishers  felt  justified  in  issuing  this 
attractive  illustrated  edition.  The  book  has  fairly  earned  its  lasting  popu 
larity,  not  only  by  the  intense  interest  of  the  story,  but  by  its  faithful 
delineation  of  Indian  character.  From  the  legehds  of  the  Columbia  River 
and  the  mystical  "  bridge  of  the  gods,"  the  author  has  derived  a  truthful  and 
realistic  picture  of  the  powerful  tribes  that  inhabited  the  Oregon  country  two 
centuries  ago. 

The  Syracuse  Heraldca&s  the  author  of  "  The  Bridge  of  the  Gods  "  "  the  best  writer  of 
Indian  romance  since  the  days  of  Fenimore  Cooper." 

A.  C.  McCLURG   6-   CO.,  PUBLISHERS,  CHICAGO 


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A  Short  History  of  Oregon 

By  SIDONA  V.  JOHNSON.  With  seventeen  illustrations 
from  photographs,  and  a  map  of  the  Lewis  and  Clark 
route.  i6mo.  320  pages,  indexed.  $1.00  net. 

"  '  A  Short  History  of  Oregon  '  is  the  answer  to  a  crying  need  —  a  con 
cise  story  of  the  Pacific  Northwest.  Of  unquestionable  value  as  a  text-book, 
it  is  as  well  a  desirable  addition  to  the  most  convenient  corner  of  the  library. 
It  is  a  volume  wanted  close  at  hand,  a  sort  of  quick  reference  book,  so 
compactly  arranged  that  one  can  turn  instantly  to  the  chapter  and  page  con 
taining  the  subject  of  information."  —  Portland  Magazine. 

Letters  from  an  Oregon  Ranch 

By  "  KATHARINE."  With  twelve  full-page  illustrations 
from  photographs.  Square  8vo.  $1.25  net. 

"  The  experiences  of  four  Eastern  city  people  with  ranch  life  as  viewed 
from  the  feminine  standpoint  are  described  in  'Letters  from  an  Oregon 
Ranch,'  written  by  'Katharine.'  They  are  composed  with  a  verve  and 
naturalness  calculated  to  inspire  in  those  similarly  situated  to  the  party 
before  it  'pulled  up  stakes'  a  desire  for  the  independent  life  and  natural 
beauties  of  the  region  with  which  the  book  deals.  This  is  apt  to  be  still 
more  stimulated  by  the  dozen  full-page  illustrations  from  photographs  with 
which  the  volume  is  embellished  and  that  are  superb  in  subject  and  artistic 
ally  executed."  — San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

From  the  West  to  the  West 

Across  the  Plains  to  Oregon 

By  ABIGAIL  SCOTT  DUNIWAY.  With  frontispiece  in 
color.  I2mo.  $1.50. 

"  The  writer  tells,  with  the  charm  of  simplicity  and  directness,  the  story 
of  how  she  and  her  husband  with  a  family  of  small  children  made  the  peril 
ous  trip  to  Oregon  in  the  pioneer  days,  when  there  were  no  trains  or  even 
blazed  paths  across  the  great  forest.  The  story  of  the  daily  life  in  the 
primeval  wilderness  is  very  interesting.  The  family  in  their  new  environment 
were  soon  joined  by  others.  Not  the  least  charm  of  the  book  is  a  ^pretty 
love  story  that  culminates  in  a  happy  marriage  in  the  closing  chapter.' 

—  New  Orleans  Picayune. 

These  books  are  for  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  will  be 
sent  by  the  publishers  on  receipt  of  price. 

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BOOKS     RELATING    TO    THE    NORTHWEST 

The  Journals  of  Captains  Lewis  and  Clark, 

1804-5-6     (McClurg  Library  Reprints  ol  Americana) 

Reprinted  from  the  Edition  of  1814.  With  an  Introduc 
tion  by  JAMES  K.  HOSMER,  LL.D.,  an  analytical  Index, 
and  photogravure  portraits  and  maps.  In  two  volumes, 
boxed,  1,083  Pages»  gilt  top.  $5-°°  net-  Large-paper 
edition,  on  Brown's  hand-made  paper,  illustrations  on 
Japan  vellum,  limited  to  150  copies,  boxed.  $18.00 
net. 

"  The  republication  of  the  complete  narrative  is  both  timely  and  invaluable.  .  .  .  Dr. 
Hosmer  is  well  known  as  an  authority  on  Western  history  ;  hence  to  see  his  name  on  the  title- 
page  is  to  know  that  the  work  has  been  well  done."  —  Portland  Oregonian. 

"  The  celebrated  story  of  the  expedition  of  Lewis  and  Clark  has  now  been  put  in  an 
easily  accessible  form."  —  N.  Y.  Times  Saturday  Review. 

"  Of  the  several  new  editions  of  this  valuable  narrative,  this  is  by  far  the  best  and  most 
complete."  —  Minneapolis  Journal. 

"  We  have  nothing  but  praise  for  this  clear  and  handsome  reprint."  —  The  Nation. 

Gass's   Journal    of    the    Lewis    and    Clark 

Expedition     (McClurg  Library  Reprints  of  Americana) 

Reprinted  from  the  Edition  "of  1 8 1 1 .  With  an  Introduc 
tion  by  DR.  JAMES  K.  HOSMER,  an  analytical  Index, 
facsimiles  of  the  original  illustrations,  and  a  rare  portrait 
of  Patrick  Gass.  In  one  square  octavo  volume,  boxed, 
35°  Pages,  gilt  top.  $3.50  net.  Large-paper  edition, 
on  Brown's  hand-made  paper,  illustrations  on  Japan 
paper,  limited  to  75  copies,  boxed.  $9.00  net. 

The  appearance  of  this  volume  in  the  period  of  Lewis  and  Clark  celebra 
tions  is  especially  pertinent,  as  no  practical  library  edition  has  been  available 
of  the  "Journal  of  Patrick  Gass."  His  narrative  was  for  seven  years  the 
only  source  from  which  any  authentic  knowledge  of  the  great  enterprise 
could  be  obtained.  When  at  last  the  work  based  on  the  diaries  of  the 
Captains  was  given  to  the  world,  the  earlier  book,  so  far  from  being  set 
aside,  was  found  to  be  most  important  as  confirming  and  supplementing 
what  had  been  set  down  by  the  leaders,  and,  in  fact,  has  not  ceased  to  be 
held  in  high  estimation  up  to  the  present  moment. 

"  Several  picturesque  details  Dr.  Hosmer  mentions  (in  the  '  Introduction  ')  which  had 
eluded  the  argus  eyes  of  Cones  through  a  lifetime  of  waiting  and  watching.  Whatever  he 
learns  he  sets  forth  with  a  vivacity  which  keeps  our  attention  expectant  and  appetite  growing 
by  what  it  feeds  on."  —  New  York  Evening  Post. 

"It  restores  Gass's  Journal  to  a  common  use.  The  portrait  of  Gass,  which  serves  as  a 
frontispiece,  is  a  distinct  addition." — American  Historical  Review. 

u  No  edition  of  Lewis  and  Clark  is  complete  unless  accompanied  by  the  Journal  of 
Patrick  Gass.  The  work  has  been  well  edited,  and  the  mechanics  are  of  a  superior  character." 
—  Baltimore  Sun. 

A.  C.  McCLURG  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS,  CHICAGO 


BOOKS  ON  JAPANESE  SUBJECTS 

A  Handbook  of  Modern  Japan 

By  ERNEST  W.  CLEMENT.  With  two  maps  and  over 
sixty  illustrations  from  photographs.  Fourth  Edition. 
Cloth,  I2mo.  $1.40  net. 

Japan  as  It  Was  and  Is 

A  Handbook  of  Old  Japan.  By  RICHARD  HlLDRETH. 
Edited  by  Ernest  W.  Clement,  with  an  Introduction  by 
William  Elliot  Griffis.  With  maps  and  numerous  rare 
illustrations.  In  two  vols.,  cloth,  I2mo.  $3.00  net. 

Arts  and  Crafts  of  Old  Japan 

By  STEWART  DICK.  With  thirty  illustrations.  Gray 
boards,  8vo.  $1.20  net. 

Far  Eastern  Impressions 

Japan,  Corea,  and  China.  By  ERNEST  F.  G.  HATCH, 
M.  P.  With  three  maps"  and  eighty-eight  illustrations 
from  photographs.  Cloth,  I2mo.  $1.40  net. 

Kakemono 

Japanese  sketches.  By  A.  HERBAGE  EDWARDS.  With 
frontispiece.  Cloth,  8vo.  $1.75  net. 

The  Makers  of  Japan 

By  J.  MORRIS.  A  series  of  biographies  of  great  Japan 
ese  statesmen  and  soldiers.  With  twenty-four  illustra 
tions.  Large  8vo.  $3.00  net. 

McDonald  of  Oregon 

A  Tale  of  Two  Shores.  By  EVA  EMERY  DYE.  The 
chronicle  of  the  earliest  Japanese  refugees  to  land  in 
America,  and  of  the  first  Americans  who  visited  Japan 
later  to  act  as  interpreters  to  Perry.  Illustrated  by 
W.  J.  Enright.  8vo.  $1.50. 

A.    C.    McCLURG    &    CO.,    PUBLISHERS,    CHICAGO 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 


AN  INITIAL  FINE  OF  25  CENTS 

WILL  BE  ASSESSED  FOR  FAILURE  TO  RETURN 
THIS  BOOK  ON  THE  DATE  DUE.  THE  PENALTY 
WILL  INCREASE  TO  SO  CENTS  ON  THE  FOURTH 
DAY  AND  TO  $I.OO  ON  THE  SEVENTH  DAY 
OVERDUE. 


JUL  28  1941 

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U.  C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


984445 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


